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ECLECTIC SCHOOL READINGS 


TRUE FAIRY STORIES 



MARY E. BAKEWELL 



NEW YORK-:- CINCINNATI • : • CHICAGO 

AMERICAN BOOK COMPANY 



T 


THE LIBRARY OF 
CONGRESS, 

T WO CoPtUS R tOfclvED 

NOV, fg 1902 

Onpvwiawr entry 

^e^AUAU'r' 

CLARA <X xXo No. 

^V"V 

COPY B. 


Copyright, 1902, by 

MARY E. BAKEWELL. 

Entered at Stationers’ Hall, London. 


TRUE FAIRY STORIES. 

W. P. I 


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DEDICATED 


WITH VERY SINCERE AFFECTION 
TO THE 

PITTSBURG KINDERGARTEN COLLEGE 



PREFACE 


These are called true fairy stories, because each is 
intended to illustrate an important truth. Without ap- 
pearing to be didactic, they teach lessons of patience, of 
gentleness, of obedience, of faith, of hope, of self-denial, 
of courage, of fidelity to every duty. While originally 
designed for the use of kindergartners in imparting pleas- 
ant ethical instruction to their pupils, it is believed that 
they will serve a still broader purpose as supplementary 
reading lessons for children in the second and third grades 
of the public schools. 

The two knight stories were written as an introduction 
to the “ mother plays ” bearing similar titles. These plays 
have been set to music and are included in Miss Blow’s 
collection of songs and games for the kindergarten. 
Four stories — The Red Shoes, The Elder-Tree Mother, 
The Bell, and The Nightingale — are derived from Hans 
Christian Andersen, being altered in thought and lan- 
guage to adapt them to younger readers than those for 
whom they were originally written. 


4 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

The Red Shoes 7 

The Elder-Tree Mother 17 

The Knights and the Good Child 31 

The Knights and the Naughty Child 35 

The Ear of Wheat 40 

Five Little Seed Babies 50 

How the Storks came and went 59 

The Milkweed Fairies 70 

A Spring Song . . .73 

How the Nautilus left his Ship 80 

The Swan’s Song 89 

The Beli 10 1 

A Beaver Story 114 

How Christmas came to Bertie’s House . . . .123 

The Nightingale 136 

A Story of Truth 145 


5 


“The value of fairy tales is that they stimulate the imagination; 
that they reflect the unbroken communion of human life with the 
life universal, as in beasts, fishes, trees, flowers, and stars; and that 
incidentally, but all the more powerfully on that account, they 
quicken the moral sentiments.”’ 


FELIX ADLER. 


TRUE FAIRY STORIES 


THE RED SHOES 



There was once 
a little girl whose 
name was Kather- 
ine. She had a 
kind father and 
mother, a new 
baby brother, and 
dolls, and pictures, 
and a garden, and 
a hat with a big 
feather. She had 
everything she 
wanted, except 
red shoes. Katherine 

There was no 

good reason why she should want red shoes, more 
than brown, or blue, or green, or pink shoes ; but 
that was Katherine’s way of thinking, and red shoes 


8 


seemed to her the one and only thing to be desired. 
She thought about them while she played with her 
dolls, and while she dug in the garden, and while 
she made patty-cakes in the kitchen. 

Now Katherine’s mother liked plain things best, 
and she felt that the feather in the child’s hat was 
as much as she ought to expect. So, whenever 
they went for new shoes, her mother always said, 
“ Black shoes, please ; yes, plain shoes that will 
wear a long time.” 

Then the shoemaker would bring out a pair of 
sober black shoes, stout and strong, and lace 
them on Katherine’s little feet. And all the 
while she would be longing for shoes that but- 
toned, shoes of brightest, gayest red, that might 
even have a bow of ribbon at the top. Then 
she would look darkly at her dangling, black feet, 
and think of what might have been. 

Being a dear little girl, and always remember- 
ing the feather in her hat, she said nothing to 
tease her mother, but went quietly out of the 
shop and skipped gayly along the street. For in 
truth one can skip quite as well in sober, black 
shoes as in gay, red ones. 

And now comes the part of my story about a 
fairy godmother, which is, of course, the nicest part 
of all. Yet if you think it was a fairy godmother 


9 


who wore spangled skirts, and carried a wand, and 
rode on clouds, you are much mistaken ; for this 
one was very different. 

She came to the door in a street car, like any- 
body else, and was generally dressed in gray. If it 
happened to be raining, she carried an umbrella and 
wore rubbers; and Katherine’s father and mother 
did not call her by any of the great names one 
always gives to fairies, but just “ Kate.” Katherine 
called her “ Tousin Tate,” because she could not 
speak more plainly. 

This person was a fairy godmother because she 
made things happen. It was she who once made 
the circus a beautiful reality, instead of a disap- 
pointing dream. It was she who made Katherine’s 
party a great success by sending ice cream. And 
when a long-planned picnic was spoiled by a thun- 
der storm, the fairy godmother changed all into a 
soap-bubble party, and everybody was happy. 

Just here begins the real story of the shoes. 
The fairy godmother had come to lunch one day, 
and at the table Katherine’s mother said, “Kate, 
do you think you could take Katherine down town 
this afternoon, to get a pair of shoes ? ” Katherine 
listened intently. She thought of the beautiful 
red shoes once more. 

“Most certainly I can go/’ said the godmother. 


IO 


“ I want her to have black shoes, please ; perfectly 
plain, and made to wear a long time — ” the mother 
explained. 

Katherine’s heart sank once more, and she 
gloomily ate a whole piece of bread unbuttered. 

When they started out, however, she was skip- 
ping, and holding very tightly to the godmother’s 
hand. They stopped to look at the horse-chestnut 
buds, and the sparrows on the fences, and the 
pansy beds in the dooryards ; but by and by they 
reached the shops. 

In at the shoemaker’s window they looked to see 
the big and little shoes together, and as they stood, 
the fairy godmother happened to see that Kath- 
erine’s eyes were turned wistfully toward a pair 
of red shoes. Yet being a wise fairy, she said 
nothing, and they walked in together. 

The usual black shoes were brought out of their 
box, tried on, and laced up on the little feet. Then 
said the fairy godmother, as quietly as though ask- 
ing for buttons or strings, “We should like to look 
at some red shoes, please.” 

Crash! went the chair on which Katherine had 
been tipping, for in her surprise she went from 
chair to floor. Her only wonder was that the 
clock kept on ticking just as slowly as ever. Even 
the clerk took this great event calmly. He opened 


I 


a box and unrolled the tissue paper, just as he had 
done before. But ah! when one did catch a 



glimpse of the shoes, what beauties they were! 
They were dazzling red in color, and made of the 
most shining quality of leather. They were fastened 
with tiny pearl buttons, and adorned with ribbon 
bows at the top. 

What further could one wish for ? They certainly 
fitted her well. The fairy godmother admired 
them, and so did the clerk, and the little boy in 
the next seat, who was merely trying on rubbers. 
The shoe man himself came from behind his desk 
to see. 


2 


And one and all together said they were truly 
beautiful shoes. 

Then, of course, they had to be wrapped up, and 
Katherine went out of the store walking very 
straight. Her eyes were dancing, and under each 
arm she carried one of the shoes. 

“ Now, Katherine,” said the fairy godmother, when 
they again walked past the horse-chestnut buds, 
and the sparrows, and the pansy beds, “ you must 
know, my dear, that there is a time for everything. 
Red shoes are not to be worn every day. But 
when you do wear them, you can be like a mes- 
senger who once wore wings at his heels. You can 
fly to carry good news and happy words to other 
people.” 

“Yes, Tousin Tate,” answered Katherine; but 
she was thinking of the shoes and not of what the 
godmother said. 

When she snuggled into bed that evening, the 
shoes stood heel and toe on the hearth rug. They 
had been shown, before and after tea time, to father, 
and mother, and the new minister who was calling, 
and the baby, and the cook. Then they had been 
shown to the nurse, and to nurse’s cousin from 
Ireland, and to the ash man, and to the boy who 
brought the evening papers. Katherine went to bed 
happy, and lay watching her shoes in the faint light. 


3 


By and by they began to dance, oh, quite nicely, 
heel and toe, balance to corners, forward and back, 
and all without music. 

“ Now let us tell stories,” said the right shoe, 
when they stopped for a rest. 

“ That is the thing to do,” cried the left shoe. 
“ Let us tell them turn about — you first, and 
then I.” 

“Very well,” said the right shoe. “This is the 
story of Katherine’s party. Everything was in red 
to match our shoes, — red lights, red candies, red 
flowers, red dresses. Katherine herself had the 
reddest dress of all. Everybody was happy, and 
there was such music and laughing ! Katherine 
remembered to pull crackers with the smallest 
children, and she sat and talked with that lame 
child, who must keep always quiet. But when she 
did dance — ah, she went like a puff of thistle- 
down on the wind. That was the right kind of a 
party.” 

“Well,” said the left shoe, “hear me, now. This 
shall be at sewing school. Only poor children go 
there, and they all wear ragged clothes, dark browns 
and ugly purples. They sit on little chairs, and 
sew hard with real needles. Katherine came into 
the room, with her proud head in the air, and on 
her feet glittered her red shoes. She sat down in 


14 


the best chair, and swung her feet so that all might 
see them. Then the other children, who wore such 
shabby shoes, and sometimes no shoes at all, hung 
their heads and feet, and felt ashamed.” 

“ That is not so good as the story I will tell,” the 
right shoe said. “ Katherine knows an old woman 
who lives in a dark street, loving all things beauti- 
ful and seeing but few. So Katherine comes to see 
her. The little girl is as fresh and sweet as a 
flower, and she brings a bunch of roses, and her 
dearest doll, and wears her red shoes. The old 
woman looks at everything. She feels of roses, 
and doll, and shoes, and has much to think about 
when she is once more left alone.” 

“Ah!” cried the left shoe; “but that is nothing 
to my story of the church. Listen ! It was Sun- 
day. The church was full. In a pew sat the father 
and mother and Katherine ; and the minister was 
praying. All the people were very still, but Kather- 
ine was stiller than any other; for she sat upon her 
feet, that her mother might not see she had put on 
her red shoes. Then the organ pealed forth music. 
The red shoes twisted and pulled ; and at last 
Katherine was out in the aisle, dancing like a puff 
of thistledown. Dear me ! how quickly the father 
and mother took her home. The poor mother’s 
face was as red as the shoes ! ” 


15 


The right shoe twisted round on its toe. “ I like 
my stories best,” it said; “for in them Katherine 
remembers to be the messenger of whom the fairy 
godmother spoke.” 

“Still, I can think of yet another story,” said the 
left shoe. “It was a rainy day ; oh, very wet and 
muddy! Katherine was in the house with a bad 
cold, shut up all day long. Then when books and 
dolls and pictures were thrown aside, what must 
she do but button on her red shoes, and go out for 
a walk. Down came the rain. Blow ! howl ! went 
the wind. Splashing through the mud went the 
shoes. It was a bad walk, and Katherine came 
home sneezing so that she could hardly speak. 
And worst of all, the shoes were spotted and 
spoiled.” 

“ I will tell no more,” cried the right shoe; “your 
stories are ugly ones, and I would rather rest in 
quiet.” Then the red shoes stood again, heel and 
toe, on the hearth rug. 

All this time Katherine had lain snug in bed, 
hearing every word. Then as she turned over on 
her pillow, she dreamed. Into the room came the 
fairy godmother, and stood beside the hearth rug. 
In her hand she carried a -real fairy wand, and bend- 
ing above the red shoes, she touched first one and 
then the other — 


1 6 


“ Katherine’s little shoes,” she softly said, “ this 
is a charm I bring you. You are to help Katherine 
walk strong and straight, always. Because you are 
red and bright, you are to help her scatter good 
cheer as she goes. And if the paths are crooked, 
you must guide her little feet.” 

Then she dropped a charm on each. She breathed 
on them lightly, and vanished. And in the faint 
light, Katherine saw only the two red shoes on the 
rug. 



THE ELDER-TREE MOTHER 


There was no use deny- 
ing that Dick had a very 
bad cold. Even Dick 
himself confessed it to his 
mother; and at the risk of 
taking much bad medi- 
cine, begged to be made 
well before Mary’s party. 

There was nothing that 
really pleased Dick’s 
mother so much as nurs- 
ing sick people ; and so it 
was with a right good will that she undertook the 
task. She soon had a big fire made in her room, 
whisked Dick out of his clothes and between layers 
of blankets, and was busy brewing a pot of elder- 
flower tea. 

Much as Dick hated elder-flower tea, he hated 
yet more the chance of missing Mary’s party. So 
when the steaming cup was brought to him, he 
drank it in vigorous and noisy gulps. He even per- 
mitted his mother to smear goose grease half an 

TRUE FAIRY STORIES — 2 1 7 




inch thick on his nose. An unnecessary quilt was 
brought from the spare bedroom, and he was firmly 
tucked into it. Then his mother left him till the 
second cup was ready to be drawn. 

Dick lay very still, though little beads of wet ran 
down his face, tickling his nose, and the bad taste 
of the tea still lingered in his mouth. “ Mary’s 
party, Mary’s party,” he hummed to himself. 
“ Mary’s party, Mary’s party, party,” sang the kettle 
on the hearth. 

“ I believe I’m getting sleepy,” said Dick, with a 
little gasp of heat. But just as his eyes were clos- 
ing, he saw something odd about the kettle, and 
was wide awake in an instant. Puffs of steam had 
been coming from the spout as regularly as a clock 
ticks, but that was steam no longer. It seemed to 
be a breath of something light and feathery mov- 
ing to and fro, and changing from white to palest 
green. 

“Tree branches! hurrah, it must be fairies!” 
The spare quilt flew off the bed as Dick struggled 
in excitement. The branches waved and blew; a 
tree trunk came from the kettle’s spout and grew 
till it touched the ceiling; the firelight changed to 
sunlight fair, and all the leaves went dancing. 
Before his eyes stood an elder tree swaying as 
though bent by the wind. 


19 


This was as nothing to what happened next. 
With a crisp rustling sound a woman stepped out 
from among the branches. She was dressed in 
green, and held a bunch of elder blossoms in her 
hands. She moved to the bedside. She stood so 
close to Dick that he smelled the faint, fresh per- 
fume of the flowers. Her face was so kind and 
tender that he smiled at her and asked, quite un- 
afraid, “ Please, who are you ? ” 

Before she answered he knew that she was the 
Elder-Tree Mother. Dick had never heard of her 
before. He drew his knees up under his chin while 
he thought a bit, and the woman patted the blankets 
round him as his mother had done. 

“ Well,” said he, at length, “ if that’s the same tree 
that stands in the corner of the pasture, you must 
be a pretty old mother ; for the tree has been there 
a good long time.” 

The Elder-Tree Mother laughed aloud, and the 
leaves danced harder than ever. “ My little boy,” 
she said, “ I am so old that I have grown young 
again, and I bring with me pictures and stories 
of the world that has lived and grown and faded 
about my tree.” 

Pictures and stories ! and to a boy in bed with a 
cold ! “ Ah, couldn’t you show me some ? ” begged 

Dick, reaching out a moist and pleading hand. 


20 


The woman touched him with her cluster of elder 
flowers. 

“ That is just why I came to visit you,” she 
said. “ Will you have pictures of men, or of 
animals, or qf flowers?” 

“ I’d like them all,” said Dick, promptly. “ But 
first the animals, please.” 

The woman reached out her hand to the tree. 
The room changed to a corner of the old pasture. 
There were the snake fence, the minnow brook, 
and all. Leaping along down the road came a fat, 
brown rabbit with a large dinner bell in his hand ; 
and though it was certainly an odd thing for a 
rabbit to carry, Dick and the Elder-Tree Mother 
seemed to think it quite natural and proper. 

The rabbit sat down under the tree, patted his 
vest and rang the bell. Then five little rabbits 
suddenly popped into view, all so like the first one 
that it was clear they must be father and children. 

“ Attention ! ” cried the big rabbit. All the chil- 
dren lifted their noses and held their ears as high 
as they would go. 

“Toe the mark,” cried the father again. There 
was a good deal of pushing and shoving before all 
the soft little toes stood in a row against a timothy 
blade. 

“ What would you do — ” the father began, when 


21 



a small rabbit at the end suddenly shot a paw into 
the air and cried, “ I know, I know ! ” 


The big rabbit frowned. “ Augustus, I am sur- 
prised,” he said severely. “ How can you possibly 


22 


know before I even ask the question? As I was 
saying when interrupted, what would you do if, on 
the return of your mother and myself from a hard 
day’s work, we should ask for something to eat? ” 

“ Carrots,” said the third little rabbit. 

“ Quite right,” said the father, with a nod. “ Now 
what would you do if you were lost in a strange 
field and found you could not get home before 
morning ? ” 

“ Carrots,” cried Augustus, with triumph. 

“Just so,” said the father; “and what will you do 
when you all have homes and families of your 
own ? ” 

“ Carrots,” called all the children together. 

Crash ! came a mighty stone down in the midst 
of them all. “ Hi, Dick,” a big voice cried, “ now 
we’ve got ’em ! Cut off that little one by the fence 
there ! ” 

Round the tree dashed two boys, hot and red, 
shouting and stumbling as they came. Away ran 
the rabbits like a flash, ears well laid back, bodies 
stretched low and forward. All escaped but the 
smallest rabbit, the baby of the family, who stood 
rooted to the ground with terror, his heart throb- 
bing with great beats, and his soft little body quiv- 
ering like a leaf. 

“ Lost ’em ! ” called the big boy. “ No, wait ! 


23 


There he is ! Get him, Dick ! He’s right at your 
feet ! Grab his ears ! ” 

Another stone crashed close to the little rabbit, 
who was trying to burrow into the ground. 

Dick in bed saw himself dive forward, breathing 
hard, and sweep down a great rough hand among 
the roots and grasses. But just then the baby rab- 
bit showed of what mettle he was made ; for before 
the hand had done more than brush the tips of his 
ears, he had shut his eyes, gathered himself together 
and made a mighty jump — a jump that carried him 
far beyond the groping hand or the stones that fell 
thick and fast — a jump that was worthy of Father 
Rabbit. 

In the midst of a tangle of ironweed he landed, 
on the other side of the brook, and un its shelter 
ran and crept along, till two fields and the highroad 
lay between himself and his enemies. When he 
sat up, his piteous little nose trembled more than 
ever, as he thought of the story he should have to 
tell in the burrow under the hill that evening. 

The two boys sat under the elder tree, chewing 
timothy grasses and talking in their loudest voices 
of other rabbit chases. They were mighty hunters, 
it seemed. One of them boasted of a catch of four 
squirrels, two field mice, and six frogs, all in one 
afternoon. 


24 


Dick among the blankets was hot with other 
warmth than their folds gave him. Somehow shame 
was overpowering him. The rabbit had been so 
very, very small. 

He wished that the Elder-Tree Mother had not 
stood there all the time. But she only said, “ Shall 
we have another picture ? ” 

And Dick, in a voice that was grumpy because 
he was sorry, said, “Yes, if you like.” 

So she lifted her hand, and the boys under the 
tree vanished. The tree, however, remained, throw- 
ing shadows on the snake fence where gray mosses 
clung thickly at the corners. 

Dick suddenly remembered a nest that one of 
those corners had once held, and he hoped, oh, he 
did hope, that the Elder-Tree Mother was not 
going to — but she was. The sound of two sweet 
little voices was heard, a flash of wings was seen 
through the elder branches, and down on the fence 
dropped two chickadees. Just above the fence, in 
the hollow branch of another tree, one could see a 
nest that held five wee eggs. 

“ Chee-dee,” said the mother chickadee, looking 
up at the nest. “It is a very warm afternoon. I 
think I should have fainted if we had not taken 
that little fly.” 

“ Chee-chee-dee-e,” answered the father, “very 


25 


true, my dear! You women stay at home too 
closely, and get a little dull at times, a little dull. 
Now we men take larger views of things. Chee- 
dee.” And the chickadee stretched up on his 
small legs as high as he could go and puffed out 
his throat. 

The little mother bird said nothing, but flew to 
her nest. Then she cuddled close to her eggs, 
and watched her husband with bright eyes. 

Then they sang a bit of a song together, and 
somehow Dick understood all about it. It told of 
the making of the tiny home, of the eggs that lay 
within it, and most of all, of the happy time that 
was coming when five little birds would be piping 
in that nest, babies to be fed and taught and cared 
for, and when the song reached that part, the bird 
voices thrilled with joy. 

By and by the father chickadee said, “ It grows 
still warmer, and you must be tired. Suppose we 
just fly down to the minnow brook and back, for 
a little exercise before tea.” 

The little mother was very tired. But she rose 
slowly, and they flew beyond the elder tree and far 
across the field. The tiny nest with the precious 
eggs was left all alone. 

Down the road came a boy, whistling, and kick- 
ing up the dust with every step. 


26 


The real Dick began to feel most uncomfortable. 
He was conscious of a desire to get all the way 
under the bedclothes, and still he could not help 
looking with all his might. 

The Dick in the picture stared 
idly up at the summer sky and 
down at straggling clover by 
the wayside. Then he looked at 
the tree, and his eye fell on the 
nest. “ Humph,” said he. Out came 
his hands from the pockets. Two 
steps brought him to the fence. 
Then he clambered lightly into 
the tree. In a trice the nest was 
empty. One would not have sup- 
posed that such a slow boy could 
have moved so quickly. In his 
palm lay five tiny eggs. 

“ I wonder if they break easily,” 
said he. So to try, he stooped and 
rapped one on a stone. Then he 
stood much surprised to see the egg crushed and 
broken on the ground. 

“ These four I’ll take home,” he said, and he put 
them into his pocket so roughly that two more eggs 
were cracked beneath his fingers. 

“ Oh, well, they’re only old eggs. Who cares for 



27 


them ? ” he said. Then he drew out the last two, 
and threw them from him as far and as hard as he 
could. Whistling and kicking up the dust as be- 
fore, he went on down the road. 

“ Chee-dee,” sounded faint and sweet beyond the 
pasture. Quickly the wings darted through the 
air, and down into the tree dropped the chickadees. 

“ Chee-dee, quite out of breath, to be sure,” piped 
the father bird. 

The mother stooped to her nest. Then she 
gave a cry so sharp and wild that it wrung one’s 
heart to hear it. Both voices joined together; two 
tiny hearts beat swift with fright and sorrow. Up 
and down, and up again, they flew wildly, till the 
father bird gave a sudden cry. On the dusty 
ground, trodden into the earth, crushed and ruined, 
lay all that was left of the hopes they had held so 
dear. 

Far across the field flew the chickadee mother, 
screaming wildly as she went. But the little father, 
with feathers drooping, sat still on the fence post, 
and only a sad note now and then told of his 
sorrow. 

“ Well, I’m sure I never knew they cared for 
those old eggs. I didn’t want them. I wouldn’t 
have thought of taking them if Bert Davis hadn’t 
emptied our robins’ nest.” Dick’s face was very red. 


28 


The Elder-Tree Mother looked very grave, but 
only said, “Shall we have just one more picture?” 

Dick would rather have been left alone, but was 
afraid to say so, and he answered, “ Yes, please.” 

Again she raised her wand. Gray clouds above 
the elder tree blotted out the sunshine, and the rain 
was beginning to beat against the leaves. The dust 
in the road changed to yellow mud, and the wind 
blew cold across the pasture. 

Something else that was yellow and was not mud 
was moving slowly toward them through the rain. 
It was a draggled and weary little dog who fell 
wearily at the foot of the elder tree, whining, and 
licking one of his paws as if it hurt him. 

He certainly was a very ugly dog. When he 
panted, his ribs showed through his rough skin. 
His legs were crooked, and one ear was torn. But 
the tree’s branches bent far over him, as though to 
keep him from the rain, and when the dog looked 
up at their shelter, one could see how big and soft 
and sad were his eyes. 

Dick squirmed among his blankets, to think of 
what was coming. 

With a splashing that was worse than the rain 
two boys came wading through the brook. They 
had fishing poles over their shoulders and bait cans 
in their hands. The dog pricked up his ears to 


29 


crouch lower against the tree trunk, shivering as 
he lay. 

“ I’ve not a single fish, and I’ve lost all my bait, 
besides,” growled Bert Davis. 

But the Dick in the picture pointed under the 
tree. “ Here’s fun ! ” he whispered, showing every 
tooth in a wide grin. Down on the bank sat the 
boys, and to work they went with fishing lines and 
the empty can. They did not see how the elder tree 
shook its head at them. They did not hear how 
each raindrop called “ no, no, no,” as it pattered in 
the brook. 

Not seeing the boys the yellow dog thought him- 
self quite safe ; and it was with a spasm of terror 
that he felt himself suddenly seized. 

“Hurry up, Bert,” one boy shouted in his ear; 
“ can’t hold him long, and he might bite.” 

The dog struggled and gasped. They were press- 
ing on his hurt foot. He would have howled with 
pain, but he could not get his breath. His tail was 
being pinched and bound. He writhed in every 
direction to get himself free. 

“ All right,” called the other boy, and the dog felt 
the hands let go. With a wild bound he was 
through the fence and up the road. But oh, not 
free. His tail was held in a vise. Some terrible 
thing was rattling and banging behind him. At 


30 


every leap forward he was cruelly struck on his 
crooked little legs. Hungry, wet, frightened almost 
out of his life, he was lost in the mist of driving 
rain. 

Dick had turned his head the other way. He 
was hot with shame, and his heart ached within him. 
Then he felt the blossoms touch his cheek once 
more. He heard the Elder-Tree Mother’s voice: — 

“ Once I heard two little girls on the highroad, 
singing a lesson they had learned in school, and it 
ran like this : — 

‘ He prayeth best who loveth best 
All things both great and small, 

For the good God who loveth us 
He made and loveth all.’ 

Can you remember, Dick ? ” 

“ I will ! ” shouted Dick, and he rolled over in bed 
to see his own mother standing beside him with the 
second cup of elder tea in her hand. 

“ Such a nice sleep as you have had,” she smiled. 
“You have kicked off all the blankets, but I really 
think you are better. Now sit up and drink this 
like a man, and I am sure you can go to Mary’s 
party after all.” 

Never a word said Dick; but he sat up as he was 
told, and drank the bitter tea, while he thought of 
many things. 


THE KNIGHTS AND THE GOOD CHILD 


We have all seen pic- 
tures of castles and have 
heard something of the 
brave knights who lived 
there, and who, clad in 
armor, from time to time 
went riding forth through 
the world, strong to give 
help, to do good, and to 
put right what was wrong. 

There was once a boy 
who lived in the shadow of 
the castle wall, and who 
learned much about the 
knights. He was such a small boy, when he first 
knew them, that he did not remember much of what 
happened then ; for those earlier visits of theirs be- 
longed to a dreamy, hazy time when he was just a baby. 

Now, in the fair spring weather, he had many 
other things to think about. The wonder of bud- 
ding trees, of spring grasses, and of bird voices, was 
all about him. And the sunshine, that woke all 
31 



32 


these things to life, stirred the boy’s heart, too. He 
sang and was glad from morning till night, so that 
sunshine was within the house as well as without. 

One day, however, as he was playing at the door, 
he heard, far up the road, the noise of hoofs. Some 
one in the house cried, “ The knights, the knights! ” 
And as the cloud of dust in the road drew nearer, the 
boy ran to his mother to ask what this might mean. 

She only smiled happily, and led him out upon the 
balcony. Then, as the beat of the hoofs came nearer, 
and they could see figures moving in the midst of 
the dust, she leaned from the balcony, and sang : — 

“ Galloping fast and galloping free, 

Who comes riding so swift to me ? 

Five gallant knights with plumes so gay, — 

What do you seek, good knights, to-day? ” 

The boy’s heart beat fast. The figures drew near, 
and he saw five horsemen, from whose steel breast- 
plates the sun shot rays of light. 

Upright and strong they sat upon their horses, 
and the eyes which they lifted to the balcony seemed 
very kind. They smiled, as the mother repeated 
her question : — 

“ Galloping fast and galloping free, 

Who comes riding so swift to me ? 

Five gallant knights with plumes so gay, — 

What do you seek, good knights, to-day ? ” 


33 


The knights lifted each his right hand and 
pointed to the boy, while their voices rang like 
a trumpet call : — 

“ Over the world we ride to find 
The child that is loving and good and kind.” 

The boy drew his breath quickly. The noise 
and glitter, the ringing voices, the quiver of the 
sunlight on the polished steel, filled all his heart. 
He clung closer to his mother, and to his surprise, 
she lifted him still higher, and held him over the 
balcony. Then through the words she sang rang 
a song of pride and perfect happiness : — 

“ This is the child so dear, 

Brave knights you see him here ! ” 

On his head she laid her hand, and very softly 
she whispered, “ For truth, for duty, and for honor, 
both now and always ! ” 

The knights raised their hands again, and their 
voices were very sweet as they sang: — 

“ Oh, child, be always good and gay ! ” 

The mother smiled proudly as she waved her 
hand to them : — 

“ Then gallop, and gallop, and gallop away ” — 

The boy was standing by his mother now; he seemed 
to have grown taller and he held his head erect. 

Just for a moment it was quiet, while the noise 


TRUE FAIRY STORIES — 3 


34 


of hoofs grew fainter in the distance, and then he 
asked, “ What does it mean, mother ? ” 

The mother smiled, but her eyes looked dreamily 
away. “ It means so much,” she answered, “ that it 
will take your lifetime to answer truly. You heard 
what the knights said. It is the good children to 
whom they are drawn ; the children who some day 
will take their places, and in their turn, ride out 
over the world to give help where help is needed.” 

“ I’m going to be good always,” the boy said, 
standing very straight ; “ I’m going to be a knight 
when I’m big. I’m going to be your knight, now.” 

So with the music of the song still ringing in his 
ears, and his heart full of longing for courage and 
goodness, he turned and led his mother down the 
stair. 


THE KNIGHTS AND THE NAUGHTY CHILD 


You remember the 
boy to whom the knights 
came galloping so gayly. 

You remember that the 
last thing they said to 
him was, — “ Oh, child, 
be always’good and gay.” 

The boy, peering down 
at them, felt his heart 
swell with the long- 
ing to be as brave and 
true as they. In that 
moment, no thought of possible naughtiness crossed 
his mind. 

But he was not a very big boy. He had not 
learned that one cannot always have his own way. 
It happened, therefore, that on the very next day 
he was just as cross as a child could be. There 
were little frowns all over his face. He said, “ I 
won’t,” and stamped his foot. He whined whenever 
he spoke. But worst of all, when his' baby sister 
wished to play with his ball, he would not let her 
have it, and when she reached up her fat hands to 
take it, he slapped her. 



35 


36 


Then the mother took the boy by the hand. She 
led him away to another part of the house, into a 
great, quiet room that nobody used. She lifted him 
into a big chair, and then softly shut the door and 
left him. 

At first he was very cross. His lips stuck out, 
and he glowered at the door under his eyelids, and 
thought how disagreeable every one was. Then be- 
cause it was so still, he thought he could hear his 
own heart beat, and he began to feel ashamed of the 
slap he had given his baby sister. Soon big tears 
began to roll down his cheeks. He curled down in 
a corner of the chair and cried softly to himself. 

As he cried, behold, — the room he was in changed 
to a meadow through which he was walking in a 
tangled path. It was very still and very lonely. No 
birds sang in the trees. The brook beside the path 
flowed on sullenly, without rippling and dancing. 

As he walked, he saw a daisy in the grass, and 
stooped to pick it. But the daisy closed her white 
rays and sank slowly from him. 

Then a little rabbit popped out from behind a 
tree, and put up its ears and wrinkled its nose at 
him. But 'when the boy stepped forward and 
stretched out his hand, the rabbit turned to scurry 
off among the trees. 

The boy felt very lonely. When he came to 


37 



where a baby girl was playing with pebbles beside 
the brook, he ran gladly to her. But the baby 
dropped her precious stones and ran off crying. 

A dark cloud came over the sun, and the boy 
began to feel that the world was very empty. Then 


he felt some one moving beside him. He turned his 
head and saw a man with a staff in his hand, walk- 
ing slowly along. 

The man said, “ Boy, why do you walk alone ? ” 
The boy answered, “ Because no one loves me to- 
day.” “Shall I show you why? ” asked the man. 


38 


He rapped his staff on the ground, and it changed 
to a glass in which the boy saw himself. He saw 
the frowns, the tear stains, the cross little face. 

The man whispered softly, “ Are you sorry ? ” 
The boy’s face changed. A smile drove away the 
frowns, and behold in his hand he felt the daisy; at 
his feet sat the rabbit, and running toward him came 
the baby girl. He was about to speak when he 
heard the bugle of the knights, and in a moment 
he found himself back in the big chair. 

The knights were really coming, though he could 
not see them. He could hear quite plainly the 
jingle of chains and clatter of horses’ hoofs. Then 
he heard the knights’ strong voices singing out : — 

“ Here come riding the knights so gay. 

Any good children here to-day, 

Ready to ride with trumpet in hand, 

To visit the happy children’s land ?” 

He listened for the answer : — 

“ Ah, brave knights, you will all be sad, 

To know that my child is selfish and bad ; 

It grieves me much to say 
He cannot ride to-day.” 

For a moment all was very still. Then the 
voices answered : — 

“ Only good children with us can go, 

Then away, and away we ride so slow.” 

And again it was quiet as the night. 


39 


Then the boy felt he could stand it no longer. 
He jumped to his feet. He flung open the door. 
He flew along the halls and up the stairway, till 
he came to his mother’s room. He opened the 
door quite softly, and said, “ Mother — ” 

The mother turned her head, and when she saw 
the look on his face, she opened her arms, and into 
them, till they folded close around him, ran the boy. 

Then the mother lifted him up and ran out and 
waved her hand to the knights riding slowly down 
the road. When they saw her, they turned their 
horses, and came galloping back to the. house. The 
mother tucked the boy behind her, so that just a 
bit of his head peeped out, and in the gayest voice, 
sang : — 

“ I hear the bugle sounding 
So merry and so clear ; 

The knights come gayly riding, 

They want thee, child, I fear. 

Now hide thee quick, my darling, 

And nestle close to me, 

For not one dimpled finger 
The gallant knights shall see. 

Jingle, jingle, jingle, 

Over hill and dell, 

You cannot have my bonny lad, 

Because I love him well.” 

And the boy nestled his head in its own place 
on his mother’s shoulder, and though his eyes 
were full of tears, he had never been so happy. 


THE EAR OF WHEAT 


He was one of a great many children, this little 
ear of wheat. He and more brothers and sisters 
and cousins than you could count, lived in a big, 
sunshiny field just beyond Farmer Brown’s pasture. 



It was a pleasant place to live in ; for at one side 
of the field was a shady brook that danced along 
over shiny pebbles and sang its happy song all 
day long, and there were always birds visiting, — 
saucy blackbirds, and bobolinks, and robins with 
red waistcoats. 

Down among the stalks of wheat grew red 
poppies ; and here and there were daisies with 
wide-open, yellow eyes. When the wind came 


40 


41 


sweeping down upon them, with strange stories to 
tell of the wonderful things he had seen in other 
lands, all the ears of wheat lowered their heads to 
listen. They whispered to one another, and said, 
“ What a beautiful world this is ! ” 

So perhaps you think this particular little ear of 
wheat was glad just to be living in the beautiful 
world; but do you know, he wasn’t? He said he 
was tired of staying in the same place day after day, 
tired of being nothing but a wheat ear, and he 
never could be happy until he had seen what 
was going on in the world outside the wheat field. 

But the other ears shook their heads at him, 
because he was so discontented ; and the one 
standing next him said, “ Only wait, something 
tells me we were not made just to live and die in 
this field, but there must be work for each of us 
to do. Let us grow into the best ears of wheat we 
can, and see what will happen next.” 

The little ear listened. It grew tall and strong, 
and waited patiently. 

By and by, one day in midsummer, a gentle 
rustling was heard passing from one end of the field 
to the other. “What do you think?” said the 
wheat ears, one to another, “ Farmer Brown is get- 
ting out his mowing machine, and that means 
harvest time has come.” 


42 


“ And what in the world may harvest time be ? ” 
said the little wheat ear. He stretched himself as 
high as he could, and by twisting this way and that, 
he could peep round the other bending, bowing 
heads, ever so far across the field. In the barn- 
yard, sure enough, he saw the farmer working over 
his odd-looking reaping machine. 

“ Harvest time is when we are all cut down, tied 
into bundles, and sent away off somewhere,” said 
one of the largest wheat ears, who had a big, 
bearded head, and an important manner. 

“ So this is what is to happen next, but is it the 
end of all things ? ” asked the little ear. 

“ Not the end, but just the very beginning,” the 
patient ear next to him said very softly. 

Next morning, bright and early, the farmer drove 
into the field, and the wheat ears bowed down their 
heads in welcome to him ; for harvest was a happy 
time, when all were glad together. 

“ It’s the best crop I’ve had in five years,” said 
Farmer Brown, slapping his knee to show how 
pleased he was. 

“ He means us,” said the wheat ears, and they 
nodded and courtesied to one another, and laughed 
so loudly that you could hear a crisp rustling all 
over the field. 

Above all smiled the great, round sun. “ I’ll shine 


43 


just as hard as I can,” said he, .“to see if I can’t keep 
away those rain clouds, that want to spoil the fun.” 

Then other men came to help the farmer, and the 
reaping began. It did not seem hard work, for 
the great cutting knives in the machine were sharp, 
the horses were strong, and the men worked with a 
will, singing as they toiled ; and the little ear of 
wheat began to feel glad. 

The day went very quickly; so quickly, that the 
wheat ears hardly knew what had happened, before 
they were all cut down, and tied into great sheaves ; 
and then it was evening, and men and horses went 
home to rest. 

Out in the wheat field it was very still. The 
moonlight made strange shadows on the rough 
ground. The tiny field mice scampered over the 
stubble and hid among the sheaves. The little 
wheat ear leaned against his neighbors, and looked 
up at the quiet stars, thinking of the strange world 
he was soon to see. 

• After that the days were so full of excitement, that 
it was no wonder the wheat ears lost their heads. 
First, all the sheaves were loaded on wagons. Then 
they were hauled down the road, amid the creak- 
ing of chains, the shouting of men, and the barking 
of dogs. It was all very different from the peaceful 
field, where the wheat stalks had lived so long. 


44 


Then they were taken into the big barn, where 
they were turned over to another machine that beat 
and thrashed them out, taking all the good part 
from the bad. It was a very exciting time, you 
may be sure. 

In the end they did not look in the least like 
wheat stalks. Of the little wheat ear, only coarse 
and dusty grains were left. 
But the farmer seemed to 
think them very precious; 
for he gathered them up 
with others, and took them 
in his wagon to the mill. 

“ This,” said the very 
dusty and breathless little 
grains, that had once been 
the wheat fear, “ is the very 
nicest part of all.” 

And so it was, for the 
mill stood beside the wide, 
cool river. On both sides of it were drooping wil- 
low trees, that leaned far over the edge to dip their 
fringes into the water. 

From the mill came the sound of splashing water, 
and the humming of the big mill wheel. In the 
doorway stood the miller, all white with flour, from 
head to heels. A broad smile was on his face. 



45 


“ I’ve brought you the best grain I ever raised,” 
said the farmer, “ and I want you to make the best 
flour out of it, for it will feed many hungry people.” 

The miller said he would take care of that. He 
looked back through the dark doorway, and called 



his two sons to help him. 

They sifted the grain, and 
ground it fine, until as they 
worked with it, it changed into 
flour, as white and beautiful as snow. Then the 
flour was all put into big bags, labeled “ Some- 
body’s Best Family Flour,” and set aside in the 
storehouse to wait for some one to buy it. 


46 


At the top of one of the bags lay the changed 
little ear of wheat. “ I am beginning to understand,” 
he was saying to himself. “We are going off some- 
where to feed a great many people. I heard the 
farmer say so, and that is much better than spending 
all one’s days doing nothing in a wheat field.” 

To the mill came, not very many days after that, 
a messenger from a big store in the city. Into his 
waiting wagon went bag after bag of flour. 

The changed wheat ear was shut up in a dark 
sack and could see nothing. He could hear at first 
only the rumble of the wagon wheels over the road. 
By and by he heard a fearful noise and clatter. 
They had come to the great city, filled with the 
sounds of bells and whistles, of rattling street cars, 
and of the tramp of many feet. 

The horses’ hoofs went “Tock, tock, tock,” along 
a stone-paved street. Then they stopped in front 
of a big grocery store. Many people were going in 
and coming out, and a very pleasant smell of coffee 
and spices was in the air. 

By this time, the wheat ear had been jolted over 
to one side of the bag. There he discovered a 
tiny hole, through which he could see quite well. 
He watched the men while they put the bags in 
long rows on the floor behind a counter. 

It was quite the most interesting place he had 


47 


ever seen. It was so bright and* clean, and there 
were so many busy people. There were boxes and 
barrels of good things; strange fruits from lands 
far away; and shining brass scales and measures 
in which were weighed tea and sugar. But he did 
not have a chance to look at these things very long, 
for down the store came a lady, with a clerk beside 
her. She was saying something very odd : “ Two 
dozen eggs, a pound of rice, a jar of molasses, and, 
yes — I do want a bag of flour.” 

Then the clerk called a boy, who picked up on 
his shoulder the very bag of flour in which lay the 
changed ear of wheat. 

“ Where can we be going now ? ” wondered he. 
“ I don’t think I can stand much more excitement.” 

But it was only a short journey this time. He 
was carried just around the corner of the street, to 
the house where the lady lived. Presently the bag 
of flour was placed in the corner of a very pleasant 
kitchen. Geraniums were growing on the window- 
sill ; a big, gray cat was asleep in front of the stove, 
and a fat cook in a white apron was bustling about 
the room. 

Soon the cook put her scoop right in the top of 
the bag, and began to dip out flour to make bread. 
At least, that is what the wheat ear supposed it 
was going to be. The flour was sifted and mixed 


48 


with water ; it was stirred, and kneaded ; and then 
something was put into it that made it very light- 
headed. When the* dough was tucked in a warm 
corner beside the stove, it began to rise. 

“ Dear me,” said the little ear, “now what can this 
mean?” And he swelled with alarm. But after 
all, the dough rose only a little way over the edge 
of the pan, and there it waited for quite a long 
time. 

That is, it seemed a very long time before the 
cook came back and lifted the cloth that covered 
it. She took out the dough and kneaded it again. 
Then she put it into baking pans, and at last into 
the oven. 

By and by the dough began to get brown, and then 
the fresh smell of warm bread filled the room and 
crept out at the door. Down the back stairs, pit- 
pat, pitpat, came two little feet. “ Bridget,” said 
a small voice, “ I want something to eat.” 

Into the kitchen came a boy with blue eyes ; up 
went a small nose, with two freckles at the tip, and 
sniffed the air. “ I’m hungry,” said the boy. 

But just as he said it, some one knocked at the 
back door. He ran to open it. There on the step 
he saw a boy and a girl, ragged and dirty, with no 
shoes on their feet, and an old broken basket held 
between them. “ I’m hungry,” said the boy with 


49 


the ragged coat, to that other boy with the blue 
eyes. 

He turned his head to look at Bridget. She had 
just put out on the table a warm and crusty loaf 
of bread. She cut a big slice, and said, “ Come in, 
and shut the door, and eat your piece.” 

The boy looked at the two poor little children, 
and then at the bread. “ Bridget,” he said, “ I want 
to give the rest of the loaf to these.” 

So because Bridget was fond of blue eyes, she 
let the boy take the bread, and give it to the anx- 
ious hands stretched out to it. 

The dirty little fingers broke off, first one piece, 
and then another, and then both children began to 
eat eagerly. 

“ This,” said the wheat ear, “ is what it means to 
feed the hungry,” and he was very glad. 

By the table stood the boy with blue eyes, eating 
his slice, but thinking hard all the while. Before 
he had quite finished the last crumb, he turned and 
raced out of the room, and up the stairs to find his 
mother. When he found her, “ Mother,” he said, 
“ how does flour turn into bread, and where does 
the flour come from ? ” 

So his mother lifted him into her lap, and told 
him the story of the little ear of wheat, just as I 
have told it to you. 


TRUE FAIRY STORIES — \ 


FIVE LITTLE SEED BABIES 



They lay quite 
close together in 
the hollow of 
Ted’s little hand 
— five tiny, round, 
seed babies. 

Each was done 
up very tight and 
hard in a black 
coat ; and any 
one not in the 
secret would have 
said, “ Oh, pooh ! 
they’re nothing 
but morning-glory 
seeds ! ” 

But Ted knew better. He knew that there was 
a beautiful fairy story about each of those babies. 
He was himself going to help make those stories 
come true. 

That was the reason he was trotting down the 


50 


5i 


garden path so early in the morning. The spring 
sunshine kissed his bare little feet, and the birds 
gayly sang to him from the lilac bushes. 

Down in one corner of the garden was his own 
bit of ground where he could plant whatever he 
liked. Last year he had had corn, and daisies, and 
sunflowers, and beans all growing together there. 
But for some reason they didn’t seem to do very 
well. The sunflowers would crowd so, and the beans 
would run into everything else. So this time he 
was going to have just morning-glories, pink and 
blue and white. But first, those tiny, black-coated 
babies would have to be put to bed, so that they 
might grow big and strong. 

Down on his fat knees went Ted. One, two, 
three, four,, five times he poked his finger far down 
in the soft, moist earth, to make beds for the babies. 
Into these holes he dropped them, first one, and 
then another, till they were all put out of sight. 
After that he patted the earth down all over them, 
and whispered, saying very softly, “ Good night ! 
wake up as soon as ever you can.” 

Then up he jumped and ran back to the house. 
Ted had never taken care of babies like these 
before, but his mother had told him that he must 
have patience and wait. 

Well, that night ever so many big, soft clouds 


52 


gathered over the sky and shut all the stars’ eyes. 
Then down came the rain, pitter-patter, pitter- 
patter, falling very gently on the ground. 

It rained all that night and the next day, and 
ever so many days after that, until people began to 
think it was never going to stop. Ted had to put 
on his rubber boots and his storm coat every time 
he went out of doors. 

But down in the garden bed, far under the 
ground, something was happening. The little seed 
babies were beginning to wake up. 

It was the rain that woke them first of all. And 
they were ever so much plumper and fatter than 
when they first went to sleep. 

Their black jackets were all rumpled and crinkled, 
and as the rain kept falling, they grew fatter and 
still fatter. At last, when they stretched them- 
selves, crack went all their tiny black jackets, and 
down in the earth, very hard and tight, they put their 
feet to keep them steady. Then up they reached 
their heads, growing just as fast as they could. 

The earth about them was full of whisperings 
from other growing things. The bugs and beetles 
and the fat, lazy worms that had been asleep all 
winter were saying together, over and over again, 
“ Winter is over, and summer is coming.” The 
seed babies felt as though they could hardly wait 


53 


to get all the way out of their beds. They wanted 
to feel the warm sunshine which they knew was 
waiting for them. 

So they grew and grew. The days went by, and 
another fine morning Ted came down into the gar- 
den. When he reached his own garden bed, he 
stopped quite short and clasped his hands. “ Oh,” 
he cried, “ it’s come true ! The fairy story has come 
true ! ” 

And so it had, for there, over the beds where he 
had laid those seed babies to sleep were five tiny, 
pale green plants. They were all holding up their 
faces to Ted; and so he stooped down and ever so 
gently kissed first one and then another. 

Now they could feel the sunshine; they could 
hear the birds sing; they could see the blue sky 
smiling at them. 

But they wanted something more. They didn’t 
care to stop and be such little plants. No, indeed, 
they were going to grow just as big as they could ; 
but they never could grow without eating. And so, 
ever since they had been waked, they had been eating 
the good food which Mother Earth had stored away. 

They did not help themselves with hands, be- 
cause, being plants, they hadn’t any. But they 


54 



drew up their breakfasts and 
dinners through their roots 
and stems, just as Ted used to drink 
lemonade through a straw on the hot 
summer days. 

Their food was all mixed with 
rainwater, and was quite soft and 
moist. They ate it hungrily, and 
grew big and strong, with the good 
sun shining down on them, and the 
sweet air all about smelling of 
lilac blossoms. 

Every now and then, the sun 
would slip behind the clouds, 
and down the raindrops 
would come pattering, be- 
cause these little plants could 
not live and grow unless 
they had water as well as 
sunshine. 

When they were quite a little 
way up above the ground, Ted 
had come and tied some strings 


55 


from the fence to a row of sticks behind the 
plants. 

As they grew stronger and wiser, they reached 
out and took hold of those strings. They twisted 
themselves about them. They crept along to the 
fence, and up the fence itself, till, if you had seen 
them, you would hardly have believed they were 
once funny, round, black baby seeds. They were 
now changed to green, shining morning-glory vines. 

Their many leaves, big and little, stood up on 
their tiptoes and danced quite gayly to the wind 
when he came by. They covered the fence like a 
beautiful screen. 

But there was something besides leaves to be ex- 
pected of a morning-glory vine, and that was what 
Ted was looking for now, half a dozen times a day. 
One evening he saw what seemed to be a very fat, 
little leaf, rolled up in a tight, green ball. He 
looked more closely, and could catch a glimpse of 
a lovely pink and white something, twisted up 
inside of the green. But just then his mother 
called, saying that it was time to go to bed. 

Next morning you may be sure that he was up 
as soon as the sun peeped in at his window to say, 
“ How do you do ? ” 

He dressed as quickly as he could. Without 
even buttoning his shoes, he flew down to the gar- 


56 


den. There, on the vine, was a fairy flower, dressed 
in a dainty pink and white gown. 

She was holding up her head quite proudly; and 
all the leaves around were standing still, and look- 
ing at her, she was so beautiful. 

After that, ever so many more flowers slipped out 
of their buds. Soon the vines were quite covered 
with them — violet, and white, and blue, and pink. 
When the butterflies stopped to visit them, Ted 
could hardly tell which were butterflies and which 
were flowers. 

By and by, the long, sultry days of summer came. 
No rain fell for weeks. Everything grew hot and 
dry. The road was so dusty that the old green 
toad, who lived down by the gate, choked every 
time a wagon went by. 

But the morning-glory vines didn’t care. Every 
evening after tea, Ted Came down the garden path, 
carrying a big watering pot, to give those thirsty 
vines a good drink. And that kept them fresh 
and green, and helped more and more flowers to 
slip out of their green cloaks and swing to and fro 
on the vines. 

But the flowers had something to do besides wear 
pretty frocks and nod and smile all day to the but- 
terflies. They had their own work to do, and very 
well they did it, too. 


57 


Down deep in the heart of each flower, carefully 
hidden, was a tiny cradle ; and in this cradle were 
the little new seed babies. Oh, how very, very small 
they were ! 

Each flower had to take care of six of them. For 
the big flowers were going to stay with Ted only 
for the summer, and when the time came for them 
to go away, they wanted to leave their seed babies 
with him. Then when the next summer came, he 
might have some more morning-glory vines. 

But before those very tiny babies would be big 
enough to be left alone, they had to be fed. They 
ate very queer stuff. It was something just like 
yellow powder, which the flower fairy kept quite 
cunningly outside the cradle. 

The fairy never gave those babies anything her- 
self. She always waited till a visitor came, — a 
bee, perhaps, or a moth miller. Then she would ask 
the visitor to scatter some pollen food for the babies, 
down a queer little tube that led into the cradle. 
It was this food that made them grow big and 
strong, as the summer went by. 

The days could not always be bright and sunny, 
with the birds forever singing. And so, by and by, 
the autumn came. The leaves on the trees began 
to turn yellow and red. The squirrels found that 
it was time to gather nuts for the winter. The 


58 


green morning-glory vine was changed to bronze 
and yellow. 

One by one, the flowers said good-by to Ted. 
Then they gathered up their skirts, and dropped 
gently to the ground to rest among their friends, 
the leaves. But each one left behind it a little 
cradle, with the baby seeds in them grown much 
larger now. 

And so Ted didn’t feel so sorry to say good-by. 
He knew that this was not really the end of the 
story. He would have the new seed babies to keep 
all winter, and, in the spring, he could put them to 
sleep in the ground as he had done the others. 
Then they, in their turn, would wake to be beautiful 
morning glories. 


HOW THE STORKS CAME AND WENT 





Far across the Atlantic Ocean 
and beyond strange countries that 
lie on the other side, is a land called 
Germany. 

In that land, there is a city called 
Strasburg. It is a quaint old place, 
with narrow streets and steep- 
roofed houses. On the chim- 
neys of some of the houses there 
are homes that belong to other people than the 
queerly dressed men and women who throng the 
busy old town. 

These other houses that are built so high in 
the air are made of sticks and twigs and coarse 
grasses ; they are finished on the inside with bits 
of soft lamb’s wool ; and in them, through the 
sunny summer months, live large birds called 
storks. 

The storks come to the city with the first breath 
of spring. They sail hither on strong wings 
through the air from the banks of a far-away 
African river where they have spent the winter. 


59 


6o 


The first thing they do, when they come back, is 
to hunt out the very same nest which they had the 
year before ; for the stork family is one of the good old 
families, believing in old customs and few changes. 

Now in a certain many- windowed house, standing 
in the very shadow of the cathedral, or great church 
at Strasburg, there lived the choir master and his 
family. 

Over this house, one day in April, sounded the 
flapping of great wings, and down on the roof set- 
tled a father stork and a mother stork. Such great 
big birds as they were, and with such wise faces 
and kind eyes ! They stood up strong and straight 
on their long legs, and looked about them as if 
wishing to greet all the world. 

They were glad to get back to the choir master’s 
house. That, I think, was partly because of the 
cool shadow the cathedral threw across the roof. 
It was partly on account of the rose window through 
which the sun sent shafts of colored light, violet, 
crimson, and soft yellow, all the way to the crowded 
pavement below. Perhaps, more than anything else, 
it was because of the deep-voiced bell in the tower. 
For twelve times through the day, and twelve times 
through the night, did the great bell call to the 
people, telling them that all was well, and remind- 
ing them to thank God and be good. 


6 



The storks had built their nest on the very top of 
the chimney the year before ; and there it was still, 
only a little battered by the wind and rain. 

But Mother Stork was a tidy body and must 
have her spring cleaning like all the other good 
housewives in the town. She therefore sent Father 
Stork off to the 
marshes to find 
something for din- 
ner, ' while she 
mended the nest 
and tidied her 
home. 

By and by, 
when all was neat 
and ready, she 
spread her wings 
and flew down to 
the street. 

“We have been 
away so long,” she 
said, “ that much may have happened in our absence. 

I will look around, and perhaps I shall have some 
news for my good mate when he comes home.” 
So she stood on one leg in the cathedral square 
and blinked her eyes in the sunlight while she 
waited. 


62 


Many people turned to look at her as they passed ; 
for the Strasburgers love their birds, and Mother 
Stork was good to look at with her snowy wings 
edged with black, her white, feathery breast, and 
her bright red feet and bill. 

So Greta thought as she popped her head out of 
the choir master’s window. She was watching a 
file of soldiers marching down the street, and she 
was not a little surprised when she saw the big 
white bird standing- below. 

She gave a little cry of delight ; and Mother 
Stork, looking up, saw a little maiden with eyes 
as blue as the cornflower, and flaxen braids hang- 
ing down her back. 

“ Mother, mother,” called Greta, “the storks have 
come again ! ” And the mother’s heart was glad, 
for the storks are thought to bring a blessing with 
therrv 

Half an hour later, Mother Stork swallowed the 
last of a delicious dinner of fish and tender young 
rats, brought home by her husband from the 
marshes. Then, after clapping her bill together as 
though she were sounding castanets, she settled 
herself for an after-dinner chat. 

“They have a new baby in the choir master’s 
house,” she said, telling the very nicest piece of 
news first. 


63 


“ Of course, of course,” said Father Stork, “ we 
know all about that. But it is of the choir master 
himself that I would first ask — ” 

“He is in good health,” said Mother Stork; “I 
saw him at his organ. He was making beautiful 
music, such as they have in the cathedral. Little 
Greta was standing beside him. They looked very 
happy. But it is of the baby that I would tell thee. 
It is the most beautiful child of its age that I have 
ever seen.” 

“ That cannot be,” cried her husband ; “thou sayest 
the same of each new baby.” 

“ But this time it is even more true,” answered his 
wife. “ It is so tiny and dimpled and sweet. Greta 
rocks it and carries it, and thinks it better than any 
doll she ever had.” 

“Ah! well,” said the stork father, “they are not 
the only young things that will play about the house 
this summer.” The mother bird looked very happy 
as she heard him say it, and laid the sticks of the 
nest more closely together. 

The nest was to hold something else, in the 
months that were coming; something that both 
birds were eager to love and care for. 

And so, by and by, there lay side by side within 
it, three big cream-colored eggs; and over them, 
day after day, sat the storks, waiting. 


6 4 


They took turns sitting on the nest so that each 
might have a chance to stretch the long, tired legs 
and hunt for something to eat. 

When Father Stork went flying away, with head 
stretched forward and legs straight out behind him, 
it was always toward the marshes. 

But Mother Stork stayed about the house. Greta 
learned to know her well, and every day brought 
her some dinner from the family table. The stork, 
standing so much taller than the little girl, would 
bend her long neck down to eat from Greta’s 
hand. 

Sometimes Greta’s mother would come to the 
doorway with the baby in her arms, and the stork 
would turn to look at them ; and, thinking of the 
nest upon the chimney and of what lay so quietly 
within, the stork’s eyes would meet the other 
mother’s eyes, each saying to the other, “We know, 
we know.” 

At last, one day, a wonderful thing happened. 
The three eggs, those precious eggs, cracked and 
broke ; and forth from them came three little storks. 
They were funny, ugly, baby birds, with no feathers, 
and with staring eyes and gaping mouths. 

But you don’t know how proud the happy Father 
and Mother Stork were. They were ever so much 
busier than they had been before; but it pays to 


65 


work hard for growing babies. The baby birds 
were always hungry, too ; and the stork father had 
hardly time for anything else but to hunt for the 
nicest bits of fish and stray mice for the babies to 
eat so that they might grow strong and big. 

And the stork mother stood on one leg beside the 
nest and talked to her children ; for they were so 
young that they had much to learn, and their 
mother had lived long and was very wise. And so, 
while they were waiting to be old enough and 
strong enough to fly, she taught them, telling them 
many things about the world of birds and men. 

One day, the choir master was crossing the cathe- 
dral square with head down-bent while his thoughts 
were busy with a wonderful hymn which he was 
composing. All at once he heard bird voices talking 
overhead. 

He looked up and saw on the edge of his roof 
the stork father and mother and the three little 
ones who were to take their first flight from home. 
So he hurried to bring Greta out also to watch them. 

Father Stork cleared his throat to command at- 
tention. Then he spread his great wings, and sailed 
for a little way through the air and back again. 
“ And now, thou, too, must try,” said the stork 
mother to each of the young birds. 

But the young birds were afraid, and stood close 


TRUE FAIRY STORIES — 5 


66 


to the warm chimney where they had felt so safe. 
Then both Father and Mother Stork flew about to 
show them how easy it was, and Greta called from 
below, “ Come ! come ! We are all waiting.” 

At last the bravest bird came out. He stood on 
tiptoe at the very edge of the roof, cleared his throat 
because his father had done so, and flapped his 
\vings once or twice. Then he flew to the spire 
and back, while the father and mother proudly 
watched him. “He is a brave young stork! -We 
shall make something of him ! ” said the father. 

The next one came to the edge and more timidly 
spread his wings. He looked up at the cathedral 
spire and that gave him strength. He felt that he 
could fly, and with joy at his heart went through 
the air, as a ship sails the sea. 

Then came the youngest and weakest of the stork 
children. The mother was anxious, but the father 
said, “ Let him alone, he will do very well.” 

So the baby stork flapped his wings and started. 
But instead of looking up as the others had done, 
he looked down to the street far below. The sight 
made him afraid, so that he lost his power and 
fell. 

Greta saw him falling and cried aloud. The 
'mother stork said nothing. She only swooped 
down and under him, and caught him on her back 


67 

between her broad wings. Then she carried him 
up to the roof again. 

“He shall try again when he becomes stronger,” 
said she ; “ so that he may be able to help himself 
and care for others when he goes forth into the 
world.” 

“Yes, so he shall,” said the stork father, looking 
proudly at his wise wife. 

The little stork did learn to fly, and all through the 
summer the whole family often went out together. 

Sometimes they flew to the great marshes, some- 
times to visit other storks in their homes, and some- 
times down to the cathedral, where they liked to 
stand and watch the people who came to say their 
prayers. The storks went oftenest, however, to 
visit Greta and listen to the lullabies which the 
mother sang to the baby. 

But though it was such a happy time, it could not 
last forever. The summer was slipping away and 
the autumn rains were beginning. 

“ There will be much for our children to see and 
learn in that other home of ours,” said the stork 
mother. “ While the snow lies thick and soft on 
the roof here and the winter winds howl about the 
house, we shall be standing in the wide, warm river 
of that ever sunny land.” 

One day Father Stork came home to dinner look- 


68 


ing even wiser than usual ; so his wife knew that he 
had something important to say. “ The weather will 
be cold in a week or two,” he began. “ All the storks 
of the city talk of leaving. We, too, must think of it.” 

The stork mother looked sad, for she loved her 
home in Strasburg. Father Stork tried to comfort 
her. 

“ Thou knowest the nest is all too small for the 
children,” he said, “ and the family in this house can 
do without us now. The choir master has finished 
the hymn. I heard him playing, and it is as beauti- 
ful as the voice of the wind in the trees. Greta 
goes to school in the week that is coming, and the 
baby has a new tooth. I heard the mother tell it. 
Surely we can go,” and Mother Stork said yes, but 
she sighed while saying it. 

Not long after, there was heard, as in that month 
of April long past, the flapping of great wings. 
The sound echoed and reechoed from many roofs 
in the city. Greta, coming home from school, met 
her mother at the door. 

“ The storks are about to go,” the mother said ; 
“ but grieve not, for they will come again.” 

But Greta ran out into the square, and, as she 
saw her dear storks overhead, she stretched out her 
arms to them. “ l ake me to the sunny land, too ! ” 
she cried. 


69 


The stork mother looked back at her. “ No, 
little Greta,” she said, “ thou, too, must learn thy 
lesson ; then, some day, thou mayst try thy wings.” 

Slowly the great company of storks rose from 
roof after roof till the sky seemed dark with them, 
all gladly flying with heads turned toward the sunny 
south. Greta’s blue eyes filled with tears, and then, 
far above her, the tender voice of the cathedral bell 
chimed out upon the still air. 


THE MILKWEED FAIRIES 



The story had begun away back in the spring- 
time, when the earth was just beginning to wake 

and be glad. With 
all the buds and 
birds and growing 
things swaying or 
singing in the sun- 
shine, these flowers 
of which the story 
tells opened their 
eyes and began their 
life. 

They lived quite 
close to the high- 
road, down in the 
corner of an old 
mossy fence. Be- 
cause they grew so tall and straight they could see 
quite across the road and the cornfield, to where the 
blue hills stood dark against the sky. 

Big, strong plants they were, with thick leaves. 
By and by clusters of flowers crowned their heads, 


70 


; 


pinky-brown flowers, like double bells, to rustle and 
ring chimes to the Wind when he came by. 

Such interesting people lived close to them. An 
old spotted toad had his home under a flat stone. 
He kept a good deal to himself, and would only 
puff out his throat and look very wise when some 
one. tried to talk to him. 

A song sparrow had built a bit of a nest in the 
corner of the fence ; and when the nest held three 
tiny eggs within it, she would perch on the topmost 
rail, and in the happiest voice tell the flowers about it. 

Just inside the field had sprung up a little maple 
tree, where it could bend down over the fence 
to look with the flowers across the road to the blue 
hills beyond. 

But nobody knew that there was any secret about 
it. I think even the flowers themselves only half 
guessed it now and then. Only Dame Nature knew, 
and if you could have asked her, I am sure she never 
would have told you, since only at the right time can 
one know. 

Yet the secret waited, and the flowers grew. 
Through the happy summer the sunshine touched 
them, and the rain brought blessing to them, and 
the wind whispered softly, till their hearts were 
stirred, and they said faintly to each other: — 

“What can this mean? We thought we were 


/2 


but flowers, and all this — this surely means that 
something strange and wonderful is to happen ! ” 
Now the days grew shorter, and the blue hills 
veiled themselves in autumn mist. The song 
sparrow and her children, who had long ago out- 
grown the nest, had flown to the south land where 
it is always summer time. The maple tree was 
dressed in gayest red and orange, each little leaf in 
a crisp and shining frock. Over the golden fields 
there was quiet, as though they rested. 

“ The end is not yet come,” said Dame Nature, 
“ and for that purpose are my messengers to go forth 
to tell the story of life that never ends.” 

Then she breathed on the plants, and behold, a 
wonderful thing happened. The green pods that 
had clung so closely to the stem opened, and within 
lay the fairy messengers, waiting ! The Wind, mov- 
ing through the field, called softly : — 

“This, then, is the secret. You are flowers no 
longer, but promises of other summers fair as this. 
Fly, and I will help you bear the message.” 

So they roused themselves, those tiny, dainty 
fairies, to leave the shelter where they had so long 
lain. On silvery, glistening wings, softly, silently, 
they gave themselves to the Wind. And he carried 
them over the wide earth, wherever Dame Nature’s 
message could be read and understood. 


A SPRING SONG 


The Princess came down the steps as though her 
feet had been winged. Then she stopped with her 
finger to her lips. 

She was not a real princess, of course ; she was 
just a little girl named Ellie, with straight hair that 
never could be curled, and blue gingham aprons to 
be worn of a morning. 

Nevertheless, she had a kingdom. She had been 
born to it like any other princess. 

No limits were set to it, for the whole blue arch 
of the sky roofed it in. As long as she had eyes to 
see and ears to hear, as long as her lips could tell of 
the happiness she felt, just so long was the kingdom 
hers. 

Ah, if you could have heard the robin’s song as 
Ellie did, you would have stopped quite as short as 
she did that fair spring morning. 

The robin understood, and so did Ellie. So, too, 
did a draggle-tailed sparrow, listening in the tree 
overhead. It was the same song the robins had 
sung the year before. It was the same they would 


73 


74 


sing the year after, and for all the years to come, — 
the same song, yet ever new. 

“ And we have made our nest, our nest, our 
nest ! ” sang the robin, the notes rippling from his 
full throat. 



“ Cheet tweet, I can sing too ! ” said the draggle- 
tailed sparrow. But he couldn’t. He flew down 
to a little pool of water which the rain had left 
shining on the pavement. 

He had meant to ruffle it and make it all muddy, 
for he was an untidy bird. But when he reached 
it, what should he see in it but a patch of blue 


75 


sky, and even as he watched, a trailing white cloud 
floated across. 

“Too bad to spoil anything like that,” said 
the sparrow, and he pretended to hunt for 
crumbs. 

Elbe came a step nearer the old apple tree where 
the robin had flown. Its branches bent low under 
the weight of pink and white blossoms. The wind 
moved among them, now and again, and a faint, 
sweet perfume came to her, and a rustle of crisp 
petals. 

“ If I move this chair,” said Elbe, “and stand on 
it, and am very, very still, I might — oh, yes, I can 
see it ! ” 

And so she could, and if she had not, perhaps 
the father robin would have told her where to look. 
She saw a little house of well-plastered grass and 
hair, a ball of feathers set atop of it, and over the 
edge, two bright bird eyes. 

“ Oh, Mother Robin, I do love you ! ” said Elbe, 
for that was the way her song went. Then she 
slipped softly back to the ground. 

“ Cheep, cheep, cheep,” this almost under her 
feet. She bent her head and saw a yellow puff 
ball running wildly along the path. 

“Chicken dear, have you lost your way?” asked 
Elbe, but the chicken ran on, gasping. 


7.6 


From clown by the gate came the sound of a 
mother’s anxious voice, and the lost child was run- 
ning just the other way. 

So there was nothing for it but that the Princess 
must catch this straying child of her kingdom, and 
take him home. 



Round the tree ran the chicken, after him went 
Ellie, almost to catch him, only to have him slip 
through her fingers. To the end of the yard it 
ran, and perhaps it would have run all the way 
back, but this time she was too quick, and in another 
moment had him in her hands. 

Such a tiny thing to be alive ! Her hands held him 


77 


with all the tenderness she felt ; and beat, beat, beat 
against her fingers went the frightened little heart. 

“ You ought to be ashamed of yourself, running 
away like this,” Ellie said, tucking him under her 
chin; “but then you’re only a baby, and such a 
little soft, scrap of a baby, perhaps you didn’t 
know.” And she set him down by the coop. 

“ Cheep, cheep, cheep ! ” said the chicken, slip- 
ping between the bars. 

“Tut, tut,” said the mother hen, calling all her 
children close to her warm breast. Then she 
spread her wide wings above them, and looked with 
wise eyes at Ellie, bending over the coop. 

“ This shall be my mirror,” said the Princess, 
stooping above the pool of rain water, and smil- 
ing at her own face. “ This is my great fan,” 
and she laughed as the wind, smelling warm and 
sweet, lifted the hair from her cheek. “ These are 
my jewels, oh, they are more beautiful than any.” 

She stretched out her hands to the raindrops 
hanging from every branch and twig. Each drop 
was a tiny crystal globe that burned red one mo- 
ment and vivid green the next; it melted from 
blue to deepest orange while you looked; and then 
it showered all the colors together, like a procession 
of fairy rainbows. 


78 


“This is my — ” began the Princess, and then 
she stopped, for her eyes had caught sight of 
something more beautiful still. 

On the very tip of a rosebush spray sat a strange, 
wonderful creature. It quivered where it rested, 
and feebly tried to move its wings. It was as 
golden as the heart of a flower, here and there 
touched with velvet black and marks of shining 
blue. Over it the sunshine flickered ; and below, 
lay a worn thing like a withered leaf, broken and 
cast aside. 

“ I knew you were only sleeping,” cried Ellie, 
“you dearest, beautiful thing! Is it because you 
were shut up in the dark so long, that you seem 
tired ? But I suppose when you begin to live 
again, you have to do it a little bit at a time.” 

The butterfly moved its gorgeous wings very 
slowly. It crawled a little way along the stem, 
quivered, hesitated, fluttered again. Then it rose 
triumphantly, to float off through the air and the 
sunshine, with all the sky above it, and the earth 
left far beneath. 

“ Ellie, Ellie ! ” some one called suddenly from 
the house. 

The Princess sighed to think that she must go. 
She caught at a cluster of lilac blossoms and pressed 
them to her face. All the glory of springtime 


79 


shone in her eyes. Slowly up the steps, slower 
through the doorway, went her feet. How hard 
to leave her kingdom so fair behind her ! 

For, do you know, as yet the Princess did not 
understand that her kingdom was wherever she 
herself might be. 


HOW THE NAUTILUS LEFT HIS SHIP 



He was crawling around 
his home at the bottom of the 
ocean. It was far, far down, through 
the gleaming deep blue water, to the 
floor of hard white sand below. But the 
nautilus, as he trailed slowly about, cared nothing 
for the miles of water that separated him from 
the sunshine, or for the great ships that sailed the 
seas so far above his head. 


80 


cSl 


In the first place, the world he lived in was so 
very beautiful, that he could think of nothing else. 
Perhaps you think, because you live where the sun 
shines and the grass is green and starred with 
flowers, that no one else has so lovely a home as 
yourself. That is just what the nautilus thought 
of his home, and with good reason, too. 

For all about him shone a soft green light. 
Over the white floor lay shells of wonderful colors, — 
crimson, orange, and pearly white. Here and there 
on the rocks were sea flowers tinted like rainbows, 
waving their filmy petals to and fro. Now and 
then groups of jellyfish would float by, like trailing 
sparks of fire ; and other fishes of strange shapes, 
big and little, gleamed like silver, as they swam 
through the water. Oh, I am sure the nautilus 
would not have changed his home for any spot on 
top of ground. 

As I was saying, when the story began, he was 
crawling around at the bottom of the ocean. He 
was talking hard to himself, and taking no notice 
of a great old crab with long whiskers that was 
perched upon a rock and watching him. 

“ What a queer little chap ! ” said the crab. “ He 
looks a good deal like his cousin, the cuttlefish, but 
his family has more good looks. Eight legs, or 
perhaps arms, must be awkward to manage. I like 

TRUE FAIRY STORIES — 6 


82 


his color, though it is white with rose-colored spots. 
And his shell does make a nice boat, though I'd 
hate to have to be thinking about it all the time. 
I guess I’ll speak to him. Ahem ! ” said the old 
crab, to attract attention. 

Into his shell went the nautilus at a bound. Out 
of sight went arms and legs, and all but a bright 
eye left to peep out and see what it was. 

“ Oh, don’t mind me,” called the crab, “ I just 
want to know what seems to be worrying you.” 

Out came the nautilus again, glad to find a 
friend, and he rested, rocking in his shell while he 
talked. As he had a soft, murmuring voice, like 
the sound of ripples on the beach, the crab had to 
listen very hard to hear him. 

“ It was many days ago,” said the nautilus, 
dreamily, “ when I was sailing through those upper 
seas. Just at the time of sunset, I passed a great 
ugly boat, filled with those creatures who call them- 
selves men. Among them was a little child ; and 
to him I listened. He reached his hands toward 
the ocean and talked to it, and as I followed, all his 
talk was of the ocean and how he loved it, and how 
he lived in a strange country where no sea was.” 

“ He must have come from the far west,” said 
the crab, “ That’s a land that’s high and dry. But 
I don’t see what you have to do with it all.” 


“Just this,” the nautilus said, “the child wanted 
to take something of the ocean with him, and I 
thought at once of my ship, knowing I could slip 
from under it without being seen ; but the day 
before I had happened on a battle between a sword- 
fish and a sawfish, and in the struggle a piece of 
my ship was broken. I have been all this day 
mending and making it new, and now, how shall 
I find again the little child ? ” 

The old crab slid down from the rocks. “Well,” 
he said, “we’ll find a way to manage it. Come to 
the sea urchins’ house, and we’ll ask if they know.” 
So off they went together. 

But, dear me, when they found the sea urchins, 
those roly-poly, spiny fellows did not know any- 
thing at all about the little child who wanted to 
take the ocean home. So. there was nothing for 
it but to keep on to the starfish and ask if he 
knew. 

The starfish lived in a most beautiful home. It 
was a fairy grotto where clusters of sea anemones 
grew thickly around the door, and the floor was 
of shining pebbles. When they entered his house 
he waved his five fingers in greeting to them. 

“ Well, old fellow ! ” said the crab. 

“ Oh, starfish, can you tell me?” said the nau- 
tilus. Then both together asked, “ Where on 


84 

earth can we find the little child who wanted to 
take the ocean home ? ” 

But the starfish was just as surprised as the sea 
urchins had been. He had seen some children 
once, he believed, fat little bare-legged things, 
digging in the sand, but none of them had said 
anything about the ocean. 

He suggested that they ask the oysters, who 
knew a good deal about men’s habits ; and then, 
coming to the door of his house, and standing 
among his waving anemones, he watched them off 
for the oyster bed. 

Here, indeed, they had hopes of learning some- 
thing ; for there were so many oysters lying about, 
surely some of them must have picked up some news. 

However, just now they all seemed to be asleep, 
and the . crab had to rap very hard with his claws 
on their shells, before he could rouse them. 

Then they all opened their mouths and yawned, 
and looked so stupid that the nautilus said sadly, 
“ I fear they can tell us nothing.” 

But the crab was one of those people whomever 
will give up. He sidled here and there among 
them all, and asked questions of every one, and 
stirred them up till they had to think. 

No one knew what he wanted, however, till he 
reached a fat oyster in a corner. This oyster, as 


it happened, had been drawn up in a dredging net 
the day before, and had slipped over the side of the 
boat down to his home again. As he had lain in 
the boat, he had seen a little child on the sand at 
the waters edge stretch out his hands as though 
talking to the waves. 

“It must be the same child,” cried the nautilus. 

“ There was a hotel back of him, with pink turrets 
on the roof,” said the oyster, in his thick voice. Then 
he shut his mouth tight, and went to sleep again. 

For five minutes the nautilus and the crab looked 
at each other without speaking, so disappointed 
were they. “ I can think of but one place more,” 
said the nautilus, “ and that is the coral reef.” 

“ Let us go there by all means,” said the crab. 

This was a long walk, up a hill all the way, and 
with many things to stop their way. The sardine 
school was out for a picnic, for one thing. And an 
enormous shark was lying right across their path, 
so that they had to go ever so far around to pass 
him. There were a great many troubles besides, 
so that they were quite out of breath when they 
reached the coral reef. 

It stood like a great temple, strong and steady, 
and reached far up through the water, to the light 
above, and it was all ivory white in the clear shin- 
ing of the sea. 


86 


But the crab and nautilus had hard work sending 
their message by a sunfish messenger all the way 
to the top of the reef, where the polyp family were 
living. 

Yet the plan worked well ; for one could see far 
and wide from the coral reef, and back the mes- 
senger came, to say that a little child played each 
day on a sandy beach not far from the reef, and that 
every evening, just at sunset, he ran down to say 
good night to the ocean. 

So you may imagine how happy the nautilus was. 
He thanked the old crab, and fell to polishing his 
boat until it shone like mother-of-pearl, so that all 
would be in readiness. 

And that evening, when all the sky was bright 
with the sunset, and when it was so still you could 
hear only the sound of the waves, the nautilus sailed 
through the upper seas straight toward the beach 
near the reef. 

There, to be sure, as he drew nearer, was the 
child he had tried so hard to find; but the child’s 
head was turned away, and he seemed to be singing 
softly to himself. 

Then, the nautilus felt all at once very shy. When 
he had sailed up quite close to the beach, he gave 
his ship a little push to send it all the way in. 
Then he slipped from under it, and dropped down 


8 ; 


to his home at the bottom of the sea. There he 
would have to make another boat. 



4 

,\\( l 'srrocr "[/hr/r. 

The child, as he turned to walk along the beach, 
saw something shining on the wet sand. He ran 


88 


to pick it up. It was a wonderful, beautiful shell, 
pearly white, with delicate curving lines, and so 
frail and fair that it seemed as if a breath might 
hurt it. 

“ It is a ship ! ” cried the child, “ a ship the fairies 
have sent me,” and he laughed aloud with delight. 

Then he held it up to his ear, and his eyes grew 
bright with wonder, for deep from the heart of the 
shell came the voice of the ocean. And the child 
with the fairy ship in his hands knew that however 
far he might go, still he would have ever with him 
something of the murmuring and the mystery and 
the deepness of the sea. 


THE SWAN’S SONG 



Beyond the purple marshes lay the swan’s nest, 
safe hidden away among the reeds. The place was 
so quiet that only a 
whisper of the wind’s 
voice reached it ; 
and the only ripples 
that ever marred the 
surface of the placid 
water were those 
made by the stately 
swan herself, as she 
slowly sailed across. 

No eyes had ever 
seen the nest but 
David’s. Sometimes 
when the shadows 
were growing long 
across the marshes, 
he would come to that quiet place, tap, tap, tapping 
on his crutches. Then, holding his breath, and 
standing still as even the water reeds, he would 
watch the nest and the swan. 


89 


90 


He longed, as he stood with clasped hands, for 
her to look at him, speak to him, sing for him. But 
she only did as she pleased, either sitting quite 
motionless upon the nest, or swimming silently over 
the lake. And David, watching with wistful eyes, 
could hear naught but the gentle lapping of the 
water on the shore. 

Each evening, as the fading light told him night 
was coming, he would turn, saying to himself, 
“To-morrow I may hear the swan’s song.” 

Now one evening, when he had turned, and his 
crutches were carrying him homeward, he felt a 
sudden breath of wind upon his cheek. He looked 
around and saw by his side a woman wrapped from 
head to foot in a mantle of gray. As he stopped, 
wondering, the sweetest voice he had ever heard 
said to him, from beneath the folds of the mantle : — 

“ What hast thou learned of the swan, David ? 
Who told thee the secret of her nest ? ” 

David did not answer, but asked another ques- 
tion, “ Who are you, and how did you know my 
name ? ” 

From beneath the mantle came the sound of a 
soft little laugh. Then it slipped from the woman’s 
face, and she stood looking down at David, 
smiling. 

He gazed upon her, and saw at first the face of 


an old, old, kindly woman, lighted by the sun’s last 
rays. But, as he looked, the face changed. Al- 
though it was crossed with many wrinkles, and lined 
with care, and the hair upon the temples was snowy 
white, the face looked quite young. This was be- 
cause of the smiling mouth, and the wonderful 
glowing eyes that seemed to shine love into the 
boy’s heart. And he put out his hands and said : — 

“ Oh, what may I call you ? Have I ever seen 
you before ? ” 

And the gray woman laid her hand on his head, 
and answered him : — 

“ Thou wouldst not know my name, even if I 
told thee. For it is only after people have lived 
long and learned deeply that they love me and 
know my name. Thou, thou art too young for that, 
little David.” 

David’s fingers closed upon the folds of her 
mantle. “ Have you, then, heard the swan’s song? ” 
he asked. 

The gray woman’s eyes grew more tender. “Not 
once, but many times,” she said. “ Some day I will 
tell thee of that song; but now, in a cottage not 
far from here, a mother waits for her little lad, who 
tarries on the marshes.” 

David looked up to smile once more in her face, 
and as he looked she was gone. He could see 


92 


only a wreath of gray mist drifting away into the 
night. 

All that evening David thought about the gray 
woman and the swan. Stretched upon his little 
bed at night, he saw them again in his dreams. 
And so he saw them, and thought about them, 
through all the next day, with its hours of work 
and duty. When evening came, and he was free 
to go, he hastened as fast as crutches would carry 
him, to that dear, wonderful place, that was so much 
in his thoughts. 

But only the swan moved among the grasses; 
and as always, she neither looked at him, nor sang 
for him. She stayed quite still, guarding her nest. 
He waited till the yellow light had faded from the 
sky, and the stars had crept forth, shining one by 
one. But the gray woman came not. Nor was 
there any sound but the lapping of the water on 
the shore. 

Thus David came for two nights, and on the 
third night, as he turned from the nest, the gray 
woman stood beside him. With lovely, kind eyes 
she smiled at him, and asked, “ Wilt thou hear now 
the story of the swan’s song ? ” 

As before, David’s hand caught at her gown that 
he might keep her if he could. For he felt that he 
loved her as he had never loved any one before 


93 


And the gray woman’s voice seemed very sweet as 
v she spoke. 

“ All the world is filled with music, little David. 
Sometimes that music reaches our ears, and some- 
times it escapes them, being beyond our under- 
standing. The greater part we make ourselves. 
Sometimes it is melody most beautiful, and some- 
times it is discord. And he, who in doing some 
noble deed, gives up self that the world may be the 
better for it, in that moment sings his most perfect 
song. So the swan, after she has finished her work, 
lived her life, and done her duty, lifts to heaven her 
song of praise, before she takes her rest. Thou 
mayst, perhaps, hear her song sometime. May thy 
own life be full of music as beautiful.” 

There was silence for a moment. David turned 
to look at the swan, and for the first time, she bent 
her stately head, and looked at him. He saw that 
she understood ; for in her eyes was something of 
the calm beauty of the gray woman’s. 

And David spake suddenly, “ May I tell you all 
that lies within my heart ? ” 

The gray woman’s smile answered him. So he 
told her all — all of which his heart and mind were 
full. He told her of the little cottage and the 
father and mother who lived there, of the days 
when sometimes there was neither food nor fire. 


94 


because they were so poor; of his fear that he 
was far too weak and small to help them ; and 
most of all, he told her of his violin. When he 
had spoken of it, she said : — 

“ Come back to-morrow night, David. Bring 
thy violin with thee, and play for the swan and 
me.” 

So the next evening, the wind, as it blew among 
the water reeds, stilled even its whisper to listen to 
the music that filled the air. 

The swan sat motionless upon her nest. The 
gray woman stood quite still and silent. Only 
David seemed alive, as, with violin laid beneath 
his chin, and eyes shining like stars, he poured 
forth his very soul in music. 

When he had finished, and the last tender note 
had quivered into silence, the gray woman laid her 
hand on his head, and there were tears in her eyes 
as she spoke : — 

“ My little man, thou hast a great gift of song. 
May it help some one in an hour of need.” 

And David cried aloud, “ It is the King, the 
King for whom I would play. For if he could hear 
me, I might then reach his heart, and he would let 
us have the cottage for our own. Now, at any day, 
because we have no money for our rent, we may 
be put out. My father and mother are too old to 


95 


find another home, and the winter is cold upon the 
marshes.” 

“ It is a weary way to the city where the King 
lives,” said the gray woman. “ Thou art but a 
child, and lame, and can travel but slowly on thy 
crutches.” 

David caught at her hand, “ Tell me I may go,” 
he said, with eager, trembling voice. 

A sweet smile crossed the gray woman’s face. 

“ Thou wilt learn my name sooner, than most,” 
she said. “ When thou hast learned it, I hope 
thou wilt love it. Go, little David, and may the 
King do thy will.” 

“ I would speak to the swan, first,” said David. 
So he stooped above the nest, and the swan, instead 
of moving away, arched her graceful neck, while 
David’s hand rested for an instant on her head. 
Then he turned to go, and both the gray woman 
and the swan watched the little figure vanish 
through the twilight. 

# # # # # 

Far away, in a great city, the King of the country 
sat upon his throne. The palace hall was bright 
with many lights, and gay with lords and ladies. 
There was feasting and dancing. Musicians played 
on many instruments to cheer the King ; and an 
ancient wise man read aloud from a heavy book 


9 6 


upon his knee, hoping that perhaps some might 
heed the words he read, and learn from them. 

But among them all sat the King quite motion- 
less upon his throne, as one who neither saw nor 
heard. He looked as though the golden crown 
upon his forehead was a burden too heavy to be 
borne. 

Then a page came through the throng of people, 
and knelt at the steps of the throne. He said : — 

“ If it pleases his Majesty, a little lame lad, 
with a violin, waits beside the gate. He will not 
leave, because he says he has a message for the 
King.” 

The King started, as though roused from sleep, 
and said, “ Bid him enter.” 

So in among the fair ladies and gallant knights 
came little David. He limped slowly on his 
crutches ; he was dusty and ragged ; he was worn 
with the long, long journey. At the front of the 
throne he stopped, and lifted up his face. 

The King leaned forward to speak to him, and 
people said there was something kinder in his look 
than any one had ever seen before. 

“You have brought a message to me?” he said. 

David answered, “ Oh, my King, my violin will 
tell that message.” 

Then he laid the violin beneath his chin, and 


97 


as he raised the bow, a stillness like that of the 
night fell upon the crowded, dazzling hall, and 
David played before the King. As he played, the 
King closed his weary eyes. Palace, crown, and 
throne vanished from him, and behold — he was 
himself a little lad again, running at his father’s 
side, and sitting upon his mother’s knee. 

Then a cloud came across his vision, and the 
music spoke of many things : of hungry people he 
had left unfed, of wrongs unrighted, of noble deeds 
undone. It told him of the whole wide world, 
filled with his brothers whom to help was happi- 
ness, and he had somehow missed that happiness. 
And as the music ended with one soft pleading 
chord, a bitter sigh left his lips, “ Too late, too 
late.” 

But as he opened his eyes, they fell on the lame 
child, standing by his throne, and joy came to his 
heart. He felt that here lay his opportunity, and 
that as long as his eyes were clear to see, and his 
hands strong to help, it could never be too late. 

He leaned forward again, and asked, “ What will 
you have from my hands, my child? You have 
but to ask your will.” 

And David, clasping eager hands upon the 
violin, told of the father and mother too old to 
work more. He told of the cottage which was 


TRUE FAIRY STORIES — 7 


9 8 


theirs no longer, and of the long way he had 
journeyed to ask the King to help. Then he 
paused, waiting with shining eyes, for the King’s 
word. 

The King rose, and gathered up his crimson 
robes. He came down the steps to the throne to 
stand beside David. He called the treasurer to put 
within a bag one hundred pieces of gold. He 
bade also that food should be brought the child, 
and new clothing. Then, at his command, the sec- 
retary put in David’s hand a deed which read : — 

“ The cottage by the marshes, to David, and to 
his heirs, forever.” 

And the King laid his hand on David’s head, and 
looking round upon his lords and ladies, said : — 

“ This message of the lad’s shall not only dwell 
always in my heart, but it shall help me to be a 
better king to my people than ever I have been 
before.” 

Then he himself led David forth from the 
palace, and lifted him into a carriage, that he 
might travel back more easily than he had come. 
And all the people ran out and cried, “ Farewell 
to little David.” 

# # # # * 

Beyond the purple marshes lay the swan’s nest, 
empty. Upon the quiet lake floated five young 


99 


swans, snowy, stately, slowly sailing to and fro. 
Among the water reeds by the nest sat the old 
swan. She was weary, and with duty done, could 
now take her rest. She waited, watching with lov- 
ing eyes the children whom she had guarded so 
long. 

As she watched, she thought of all that life had 
taught her in her nest among the reeds, and the 
longing came upon her to tell it to others. She 
summoned all her strength. She rose, and lifting 
high her beautiful head, began her song. 

David sat upon the bench by the cottage . door. 
He had laid money and deed within his mother’s 
hands and told her of the King, and the wonders he 
had seen ; and now he sat resting from the long 
journey. As he rested there, with head leaned 
back, and eyes closed, a smile lay upon the tired 
little face. And even as he smiled, from beyond 
the marshes came the music of the swan’s song. 

At first it was the sound of a lullaby, like a 
mother crooning to her child, so sweetly, so tenderly. 
Then the song swelled and rose, and had the noise 
of battle in it, and the clash of conflict. Then it 
became sadder than any song ever sung, because of 
the darkness and the sin that were within the world. 
But because of the beauty and the hope, that made 
the darkness light, it grew to a song of triumph, the 
L. of 0. 


IOO 


song of those who win the victory. At last in one 
glorious burst of melody, it filled all the air and 
quivered away into silence. 

Then, by the cottage door, like a cloud, passed 
the gray woman. David felt the touch of her lips 
upon his forehead, and heard the voice he had 
learned to love so well, say softly : — 

“ Thou, too, my little lad, hast sung thy swan’s 
song.” 


THE BELL 


It was the strangest, most wonderful bell in all 
the world. Since time had been, no eye had ever 
seen it ; but in the evening, when the clouds shone 
like gold above the house tops, the sound of its 
ringing was heard. 

It rang clear and sweet and strong, to any that 
listened to it. Yet because the city was so full of 
other sounds — the tramp of feet on many pave- 
ments, mill whistles blowing shrill, bells in church 
towers jangling together — often the people did not 
hear its music, or hearing, did not listen. 

Those who walked in the cool of the evening, 
beyond the city gates, heard it best. There, where 
one saw the purple mountains, and the wide, shining 
river, the voice of the bell sounded like organ 
music ; and these people agreed in saying that it 
seemed to hang within the forest. 

At most times the people were too busy to think 
much about the bell. It had rung for so many 
years that those who first heard it were now white- 
haired and old. If any tried to find it, they did so 
hardly caring whether they should succeed or not. 

IOI 


102 


But at length a new king came to the throne ; 
and to him all things in earth and heaven seemed 
wonderful and wise. He thought that perhaps the 
bell might ring a message for his kingdom. There- 
fore he had a proclamation written in great letters 
that all could read: — 

“to any man that shall find the hiding place 

OF THE INVISIBLE BELL, AND CAN UNDERSTAND THE 
MEANING OF ITS RINGING, I WILL GIVE A SEAT AT 
MY RIGHT HAND, AND UPON HIS NECK SHALL HANG 
MY GOLDEN CHAIN. I, THE KING, HAVE SAID IT.” 

The proclamation was nailed upon the palace 
gateway, and straightway all the people flocked to 
read it. Young and old, and rich and poor, they 
crowded around the gate, peering and gazing, and 
talking in loud, excited voices. For why the King 
should try to find an invisible bell, when his city 
was quite full of good, new, tuneful bells, no one 
understood. Still, since the King had willed it, 
many set out upon the search, each in his own 
way. 

Some sought it among the church towers, but there 
found it not. Some went to the great Academy to 
ask the learned men, who studied there all day long, 
if they knew of the bell. But the learned men 


103 


shook their heads and said that their books had 
told them nothing of this thing. Others hunted 
in the palace, and the King himself joined in the 
search ; yet nothing could be found. 

At length some remembered that the bell was 
heard best in the forest, and immediately they hur- 
ried together out of the city gates. 

Far down the road stood a group of hazel trees, 
and the forest being too dim and far for many eyes 
to see it, the searchers agreed that this was as good 
a place for the bell as any. A clever cook from 
town set up a tent among the bushes, and the 
party found that they could have tea there as nicely 
as at home. While merrily eating and drinking, 
some looked vaguely up at the tree tops, but no one 
saw or heard the bell. When tea was over all went 
comfortably home to say the bell did not hang in 
the forest. 

One day the Prince appointed a feast day, and 
called all the children from far and near to come to 
a green park in the city. These children loved a 
party just as much as you or I, and so the park was 
soon filled with gay dresses and happy voices. 
There were flowers to pick, and games to play. 
The King’s own band made music for them, and 
there were cakes and ices for the asking. 

By and by, when the first burst of joy was over, 


104 


the Prince mounted a little stand and held up his 
hand for silence. So while children and fathers and 
mothers listened, the boy’s sweet voice told them 
the story of the bell ; how no eye had ever seen it, 
how strong and true its music was, and how all the 
older people had sought for it in vain. Then, with 
a light shining from his eyes, he said: — 

“ Let now the children of the kingdom find this 
bell ! ” 

All the boys threw their caps in the air, and the 
girls danced and whirled on the grass. They de- 
clared that they were ready to set forth upon their 
search, then and there. But one, a little girl, said she 
was having a new dress made, and must hurry home 
to see it fitted snug and well. And a thick-voiced 
boy, who thought that supper would soon be ready, 
made excuse that he could not walk so far. The 
others, however, started joyfully together. Hand in 
hand a long chain of children marched out into the 
open country; and as they passed the gate, they 
heard the sound of the bell, deep-voiced, strong, 
and beautiful, calling to them from the forest. 

Soon, like the fathers and mothers who had sought 
before them, the children began, one by one, to drop 
behind. The smallest grew tired, and wanted to go 
home. Some little girls stopped in a poppy field 
and began to make themselves wreaths. Others, 


105 


when they came to the cook’s tent in the hazel 
grove, forgot all else but the juicy pies and tarts 
upon the tables. Still others, when they saw where 
the forest stood dark and strange, were afraid to 
venture in. 

At last but six children went forward with the 
Prince. One was a pale little girl, for whom the 
others must walk slowly; and one was the son of a 
ragpicker, tattered and torn. 

The forest was now all around them. Close and 
tall stood the trees, their branches shutting out the 
light; and over twisted roots and tangled vines the 
children stumbled together. Soon, however, they 
came upon a clearing, and in the clearing was a 
gay little cottage. The dooryard of the cottage was 
brilliant with orange and scarlet flowers, and from 
the four corners of the roof hung four little silver 
bells. As the wind lightly swung them to and 
fro, these bells rang out sweet and tinkling little 
chimes. 

“ Can this be where the great bell hangs ? ” asked 
the ragpicker’s son. 

The Prince shook his head with a puzzled frown ; 
and the children waited, wondering, among the red 
and orange flowers. Finally the door swung open, 
and in the entrance stood a fairy. She was dressed, 
like her flowers, in gayest colors. A cap all trimmed 


io 6 

with bells rested sideways on her head, and from her 
shoulders gleamed two gauzy wings. She smiled 
at the children, and the children smiled at her. 

“ My little dears,” said the fairy, still smiling, 
“ won’t you come into my house and rest awhile ? 
I have canaries to sing for you, dancing dolls to 
amuse you, and sweet cakes for you to eat.” 

They all shook their heads, and the Prince spoke 
for them, “We are going a long, long journey, per- 
haps quite around the world, and we cannot stop, 
for we must seek until we find the great bell.” 

“Won’t my bells do?” asked the fairy; and the 
wind touched the silver bells on her roof, making 
them ring their sweet and tinkling tunes. 

“ They do not sound like our great bell ! ” cried 
the children all together. 

“ Well, you are very silly not to do as I ask,” the 
fairy said, frowning at them. “You’ll be sorry 
when you reach the goblin frog pond, and the lion’s 
den, and the giants who throw stones ! ” Then she 
went back into her cottage, and rudely banged the 
door. 

The children walked on. By and by they heard 
frogs croaking, and knew they must be near the 
goblin frog pond. Between the tree trunks they 
stole, looking to right and left, and at last came 
upon a wide, stagnant pond that reached from side 


107 

to side as far as they could see. It was covered 
with thick green scum, and the air was heavy and 
evil. 

“ Plunk, plunk,” said a voice close by. Out of 
the dim light shone two lumpy eyes and a green 
head, but that was all of the frog that one could see. 

“ Plunk, plunk,” said another voice, and two more 
eyes in a green head appeared. Soon the pond 
seemed full of partly invisible frogs, their croaking 
voices dinning in one’s ears. It was not a cheerful 
place, and the pale little girl, who was not very 
brave, burst into tears, and had to be comforted. 
Then little lights popped out from behind the trees, 
and began to dance here and there on the edge of 
the pond. 

“ I am going to see what those lights are,” cried 
the ragpicker’s son. So, in spite of all they could 
say, off he went after the nearest light. It kept just 
ahead of him for a moment, and then led him right 
into the dreadful pond, splash ! with water quite 
over his head. What a time they had, pulling him 
out, and trying to dry him with their small handker- 
chiefs ! And the frog voices made more noise than 
ever, and all the children wondered how they were 
going to get across, the pond. 

While they wondered, suddenly a voice spoke 
out right plainly. 


io8 


“ Won’t you come into our pond and rest awhile? 
We have frogs to croak for you, goblins to dance 
for you, and juicy roots to eat.” 

But it did not take the children a minute to cry 
all together : — 

“ No, indeed, we will not; for we must seek until 
we find the great bell.” 

At the very mention of the bell, behold ! the frogs 
and the pond and the lights all vanished together, 
and instead, a straight path stretched before . them. 

Then on and on the children walked ; and by 
and by they heard a roaring, and knew they must 
be near the lion’s den. Among the tree trunks 
they stole softly, and in the middle of the path they 
saw a great yellow lion with ugly teeth. On either 
side of him were other lions, and then more lions 
and more lions, as far as one could see. 

“ Boom,” roared the big lion. “ Boom,” roared 
the next one, and then, all together, till the ground 
shook under the children’s feet. Then the lions 
began their supper, cracking many bones with their 
sharp teeth, till the forest echoed with their crunch- 
ing. None of them looked at the children, and the 
children kept very still. But when supper was 
ended, the big, old lion raised his head to say in a 
deep, growling voice : — 

“Won’t you come into our den and rest awhile? 


109 


We will all roar for you, the cubs shall dance for 
you, and you shall have plenty of bones to crunch.” 

Then the Prince showed himself a true king’s 
son, for he stepped out boldly, facing the old lion 
with never a fear : — 

“ No,” he said ; “ we will not come into your den, 
nor shall you longer stop our way. F'or we seek 
until we find the great bell.” 

No sooner had he said these words than lions, 
big and little, vanished in the air, and the path 
stretched straight and quiet before them. 

Then the children walked on until by and by 
they heard a mighty sound of rocks crashing to- 
gether. Loud voices were roughly calling, and 
these sounds, you may be sure, were fearsome things 
to hear. The children stole forward silently, watch- 
ing and listening. Presently they found themselves 
climbing the side of a mountain, where the trees 
became fewer and farther apart as they went. At 
last they saw those who they knew must be the 
rock-throwing giants. Mighty men they seemed, 
with legs like tree trunks, and shaggy heads half 
lost among the clouds. 

“ Ho, ho ! ” they cried to one another, and their 
great voices moved the air like thunder. 

But this was not the worst that they did. In 
their hands they carried huge rocks, and these they 


I 10 


tossed together down the mountain side with crash 
and roar, so that trees were torn from their roots, 
and streams turned from their' courses. 

The children stood waiting, hand in hand, not 
knowing how they might pass these fearful giants, 
or escape the falling rocks. At last one monster 
called : — 

“ Enough of sport, let us sit and carve ourselves 
good spoons, each from a tree trunk.” 

So the crashing rocks ceased, and down the giants 
sat, while the mountain trembled beneath them. 
Then their eyes spied the children, and they opened 
wide their mouths and laughed loudly. 

“ Ho, ho,” cried one ; “ what midges are these ? ” 

“Would rocks knock them down, think you?” 
roared another. 

“ Let us catch them and shut them up in cages to 
sing for us,” said a third. And he reached out a 
hand as large as a barn door, but the ragpickers 
son pushed forward : — 

“No,” he cried; “you shall not dare to touch us, 
or even stop us on our way, for we must seek until 
we find the great bell.” 

Then, behold, giants and rocks all disappeared ! 
Before the children the path stretched straight and 
clear right up the mountain side, and they ran and 
climbed with eager feet. 


So well and quickly did they climb that they soon 
reached the top of the mountain, and turned down 
on the other side. And there a lovely valley lay 
smiling in the sunlight, and the children ran on 
faster than before, for green meadows waited for 
them. 

A shining stream, where water lilies floated, wound 
slowly through the green. On the banks grew daf- 
fodils and hyacinths and sweetest violets. Here 
and there were groups of lacy willow trees, and all 
the meadow larks were singing. 

Suddenly, while they stood laughing for very joy, 
the bell began to ringj Close to them, clear and 
sweet and strong. First, slowly, like a dear voice 
singing ; and then faster and faster, till all the tones 
ran chiming together in one great burst of song. 

Forward went the children, wide-eyed and won- 
dering, holding their breath to hear more surely. 

There beneath a clump of willows sat a little old 
man. In one hand he held a globe on which the 
courses of the stars were drawn with cunning skill. 
With the other he wrote from time to time in a 
faded book upon his knee. He did not see the 
children coming, neither did he lift his head to hear 
the bell. 

They came quite close and waited still. The 
Prince took off his cap. The other boys did like- 


wise, and the little lame girl made a courtesy. Yet 
the old man never raised his eyes until the Prince 
spoke gently. 

“ Oh, sir, we have come so far to find the great 
bell, through forest and over mountain, and now, 



though we have but just heard its ringing, we can- 
not see it.” And because he was so tired, and had 
tried so hard, the Prince’s eyes filled with tears. 

The old man kept on writing in his book, while 
the children stood waiting in the sunshine. Then 
suddenly he closed it, and turned his dim eyes to the 
children. When he spoke, his voice itself was music. 


1 13 

“ Go back to your homes, and till your heads are 
white as mine, remember this word I tell you. For 
those who truly care for the right, to those who 
deeply love the truth, the bell shall always ring, 
both in the city and throughout the forests. And 
although no hand may ever set it ringing, and no 
eye may ever look upon it, yet your eyes shall see 
more clearly and your hands shall be stronger, 
because you have heard and listened to its voice.” 

Then the old man opened his book, and bent 
once more above its yellowed pages. 

The children turned to go. Their journey seemed 
as nothing to them ; for they knew that to the city 
and to all the world they could teach the old man’s 
message, and so read the meaning of the bell. 


TRUE FAIRY STORIES — 8 


A BEAVER STORY 


It was late in September. The day was bright 
and clear. There was a snap in the air, and a tinge 
of red in the maple trees that told all the world 
Jack Frost had come back once more. 

Every one was busy getting ready for winter. 
The farmers were filling their barns, and the 
squirrels their houses in the hollow trees, that 
they might have enough and to spare through the 
long nights and cold days that were coming. 

Down by the side of the river a city was being 
built, very quickly and quietly, with no sound of 
hammer and saw, nor voices to break the stillness. 
It was the most wonderful city in the world; at 
least, that is what Billy thought, as he lay flat 
among the tall grasses, and peeped out through 
the chinks with two very bright eyes. 

Billy had lived in the city all his short life until 
that summer. And so it had been the happiest 
summer he had ever known. He had never even 
dreamed that the earth held so many beautiful 
things. 


14 



He had learned how the oriole builds her nest, 
and what the whip-poor-will whistles in the sweet 
summer twilight, and why the water lilies can 
float and never float away, and oh — ever so 
many things besides. 


Copyright 1900, by A. Radclyffe Dugmore. 

Now he was watching a colony of beavers. He 
was quite breathless with excitement and the exer- 
tion of wriggling along the ground like an eel; for 
if he had run down among them boy fashion, he 
would have frightened them all away, and that 
would have been the end of everything. As it 
was, the beavers worked steadily on, never think- 


1 16 

ing that a small boy was lying so close to 
them. 

There were just twenty little builders in all, funny 
fellows, too, Billy thought. He said they were half 
like animals, and a little like fish, and wholly unlike 
anything else. 

They were a great deal larger than his dear Mrs. 
Tabby-cat. They had eyes as bright as his own, 
and queer, long, sharp teeth that were just as good 
as all a carpenter’s tools put together, and much 
easier to handle. 

Their fore paws were very much like those of 
their cousins, the squirrels ; but their hind feet 
were webbed like a duck’s. The queerest things 
about them were their tails, great, flat, oval tails, 
covered with scales, and very heavy to drag one 
would think. 

And work, — oh, how those beavers did work! 
They worked much harder than he had ever worked, 
Billy told himself; and he felt a pang of reproach 
as he thought of the duties he had neglected, and 
the errands he had forgotten. But these little 
chaps were even busier than the bees. 

Right across the river they had built their dam 
from a tree, which they had cut down by sawing 
away at it with their sharp teeth, until it had fallen 
all the way over the stream. But Billy didn’t know 


that ; all he saw was the tree, and a mass of stones 
and twigs and mud that had stopped the rush of 
the river, and made a deep pool. 

Directly above the pool on the bank their city 
was being built. There were about a dozen little 
houses in all. Some were finished, and others were 
just begun, but all of them “Just exactly like the 
pictures of wigwams in my Indian book,” thought 
Billy. And he kicked his heels together with 
delight, because the little houses were so cunning. 

To and fro ran the beavers. Some of them were 
toiling up from the river, with lumps of mud held 
between their fore paws and chins. Some were 
gathering together heaps of sticks and twigs. Still 
others were doing the real house building, making 
the little wigwams from poles and branches, and 
plastering up all the cracks and crannies with clay 
and bits of sod, so that not one flake of snow might 
be able to creep in when winter came. 

“ But not a single house has any door,” said Billy. 
“ I don’t see how they can get in, unless down the 
chimney, the way Santa Claus does. And then I 
don’t see any chimneys, either.” 

Billy was puzzled. He was beginning to get a 
little sleepy, too. The gurgling of the water, and 
the sighing of the wind through the river reeds, 
and the constant rushing about of all those little 


ii 8 

reddish-brown figures had caused his eyes to grow 
heavy and his thoughts to wander. 

“ I guess I’ll take a nap,” he said to himself. So 
he cuddled his head down on his arm, and without 
loss of time went straightway off to dreamland. And 
there he heard some one talking. 

“ If you don’t hurry and begin to get your share 
of mud and sticks, you’ll not have our house done 
by the first of the month, and those tiresome Rodents 
next door will laugh at us,” said Mrs. Beaver. She 
was sitting up very straight on the bank, with her 
tail spread out behind her like a train, and her fore 
paws waving in the air to add force to her remarks. 

Mr. Beaver thoughtfully rubbed his nose. “ My 
dear,” he said, “ you really need not be worried. 
Our house already has the foundations laid, and 
our very kind neighbors will help us with the rest. 
I have, as you know, been so busy helping those 
poor Broadtails that I have had no time to do much 
else ; for Mr. Broadtail is so stiff with rheumatism 
he cannot do a thing for himself.” Mr. Beaver 
looked reproachfully at his wife. 

“Well,” she said, “you always were a kind soul. 
I’ll trust it to you, and in the meantime, I think 
I’ll take something nice to the Broadtails, myself. 
They might like some of those elder shoots for 
lunch. And I will carry them some of those very 


good lily roots you brought home for supper last 
night.” 

So while Mr. Beaver began his work on the 
house, Mrs. Beaver made up a bundle of good 
things, and holding them tight under her chin, 
swam downstream a little way, till she came to the 
Broadtail’s front door, which was, oddly enough, 
under the water. 

Indeed, there was nothing but a tunnel up through 
the bank. It was like a very long vestibule ending 
in another door, right in the floor of the house, so 
that no one could possibly see who went in or 
came out. 

The family were all at home. Mrs. Beaver 
tucked her bundle under her arm. Then she shook 
paws with her hostess, and stifled a little pang of 
envy that rose in her breast, as she looked at the 
Broadtail’s spick and span house, and compared it 
with her own home, not even under roof. 

“ And all because my husband gave up his work 
to help these people,” she said to herself. And 
then she thought of her good little husband, toiling 
for her; and she remembered the motto of the 
Beaver family. 

“ Be always industrious, and ever patient.” 

So she asked very kindly about Mr. Broadtail’s 
rheumatism ; gave the tender shoots and roots to 


120 


his wife, with the wish that they might enjoy them ; 
and then proceeded to admire the house, and a fine 
house it was, too. 

There was just one room, but it was a very good 
size for the family. At the sides, and somewhat 
out of sight, were the beds, made of freshly gathered 
leaves, that had a most inviting look. 

In the center was the dining table, spread for 
luncheon with birch bark and pith from the willow 
trees. In the floor were two doors, the front door, 
by which Mrs. Beaver had come, and one at the 
back, leading by way of- an underground passage, 
to the storehouse, filled now with supplies of food 
for the winter. 

The whole house was as clean and neat as a new 
pin. Mrs. Beaver praised and admired everything, 
and told the family they were models for the neigh- 
borhood. Then she said good-by, and started to her 
own home. 

When she arrived there, she found a surprise 
waiting for her. The neighbors had come to help ; 
and there stood the house, under cover at last, 
and Mr. Beaver and two or three others were put- 
ting the finishing touches to it. 

“ I’ll have the dining room in oak, and the bed- 
rooms in cherry,” Mrs. Beaver panted to herself, as 
she scrambled up the bank. And while she rested 


I 2 I 


at the top, to get her breath, she thanked her friends 
for the help they had given her husband. 

“ Yes,” one of them said, “ it is a nice little house ; 
you are going to be very comfortable here. In fact, 
I think we have found a good place for our city. 
It is so quiet, convenient, and safe from men.” And 
at that all the beavers looked at one another, for 
this was their great danger. Men hunted them 
for their soft fur, and so they must always build 
their cities where it was hard for any one to find 
them. 

“ Still, we are very well settled for this year, I 
think,” said Mrs. Beaver, “ and we have kept the 
secret of our houses well. No one but ourselves 
knows how we get inside, so we are quite safely 
hidden away.” 

And then she gave a little scream and said, 
“ Who’s coming over the dam ? ” 

For there, sure enough, was a beaver racing 
toward them, along the top of the dam. As soon 
as he came close to them, “ Sound the alarm ! ” he 
called, “there are men and dogs hunting on the 
other side of the river ! ” 

“Keep perfectly cool,” said Mr. Beaver. “We 
are entirely safe. They cannot possibly find us.” 

Nevertheless, he hurried to the river, lifted his 
tail, and with it gave three mighty slaps on the 


122 


surface of the water. The sound was like the 
booming of a great gun ; and in a second, there 
was not a beaver to be seen, nor even a ripple to 
tell where the timid creatures had dived to the 
doors of their houses. 

Was it the beaver’s tail that made that noise, or 
was it the echo of his mother’s dinner horn ? 

Billy rubbed his sleepy eyes. There on the bank 
were the little wigwams, but there wasn’t a sign of 
life about. Had he really dreamed it all, then ? 

“ It must be dinner time,” he said ; and he gave 
one last look at the silent little city on the bank, 
and turned toward home. 

“ I don’t know how much I dreamed, and how 
much was truly so,” he thought, as he trotted 
through the underbrush, “but I know all about how 
the beavers work, and nobody else knows their 
secret.” 



HOW CHRISTMAS CAME TO BERTIE'S HOUSE 


He was a small boy to be working at such a large 
woodpile. The North Wind, making his way 
around the corner of the house, stopped to watch 
him for a moment, and tried to attract his atten- 
tion by rustling the tops of the pine trees and by 
whistling loud and shrill. 

. But Bertie kept steadily on with as solemn a little 
face as before. For was not his father far away 
working in the forest, and were not his mother and 
five very small boys left to his care ? It was enough 
to make any boy solemn. If Bertie stopped at all, 
it was only to blow a warm breath or two on his 
stiff fingers, and then turn again to his big ax and 
the wood. 

So cold it was and so still. The Wind, remem- 
bering the noisy, crowded cities he had passed, 
marveled at the silence about this little house. 

As far as one could see toward the north, the 
white snow reached on and on until the gray 
sky bent to meet it. But behind and around 
stretched the dark forest. There the brave pine 
trees stood, green and tall, their trunks making 


23 


24 


deep blue shadows on the whiteness of the ground. 
And among them was this one bit of a house with 
smoke curling from its chimneys, to tell of a home 
in all the stillness. 

So because Bertie was so small, and worked so 
hard, the North Wind thought, “ I’ll just peep in- 
side the window, and see what kind of a home he 
has.” 

He peeped, and saw the mother sewing by the 
fire. On her face was the look of one who listened, 
and that was strange, because everything was so 
still. 

There was a baby in the room, who had light hair 
and a blue frock that trailed behind. There were 
also a great many little boys jumping and chattering 
like so many squirrels. Bertie seemed to be the 
only boy in the forest who was solemn. 

“ But, of course,” said the Wind, sending a puff 
of snow along the roof, “that comes of being the 
eldest of so many, and of wearing his father’s old 
clothes.” 

He turned to go, for he had much to do in the 
far North Land. “ I am coming to see you again, 
little man,” he called to Bertie. Bertie looked up 
and flashed a sudden smile at the pine trees; but 
the Wind did not know that the boy’s own thoughts 
had caused that smile. 


125 


For all the time his hands were working, Bertie 
was thinking of a story, and it ran something like 
this, for it was all true : — 

“ The star shone, and the Wise Men came to see 
only a little baby that had not even a cradle to sleep 
in. But that little baby was to bring peace and 
good will to all the earth, so Miss Helen said. 
There were angels singing, too. And after that 
the people were always to have Christmas, Miss 
Helen said.” 

Bertie chopped so hard for a moment that the 
chips flew out over the snow. Then he stopped 
and tucked his hands down into his pockets. 

“ She told us also a pretty story about a tree and 
Santa Claus and stockings all full of things, and I 
remember that part, too. She said Christmas could 
come to every house. - I wish she hadn’t gone away 
home. I don’t see how I can ever do it by myself. 
I keep wishing and wishing, and Christmas is to- 
morrow.” And then he sighed very deeply, and 
went on with his work. 

Back came the North Wind, rushing through the 
forest. Dark night it was now, with the stars 
shining clear and cold and far away. Through the 
darkness of the night shone something, else among 
the rustling pines. It looked like a red star, but 


26 


the Wind knew it was the lighted window of the 
little house. He came and looked in to see Bertie 
and the mother sitting in the lamplight. A row of 
small shoes lay by the hearth. In an old cradle 
was a roll of blankets that plainly held a baby. 
All through the house was the soft sound of chil- 
dren sleeping. 

The Wind blew against the door frame to make 
Bertie look around. The old listening look came 
back to the mother’s face. 

“ How the wind blows to-night,” she said. She 
put out one hand to shield the lamp. She laid the 
other on Bertie’s shoulder. “ I would have been 
glad enough to have had Christmas for you children, 
all these years, if I could,” she said. 

The Wind pressed closer to the doorway. The 
mother spoke so softly, he could only hear a word 
now and then — “Your father away.” “So little 
money — ” “ The hard, long winter — ” Then out 

quite loud, “ No, Bertie, we cannot have Christmas. 
I am sorry, but I cannot afford it.” The mother’s 
face was all crisscrossed with little lines. 

Bertie tried hard to keep back the tears. Then 
he straightened up and patted his mother’s shoulder. 
“ All right, mother,” he said, “ perhaps some day a 
Christmas will come to us.” 

“Whew! ” said the North Wind, in a big whistle, 


127 


“ we’ll see what can be done. Christmas time, and 
all those little children, and no Christmas. I never 
heard of such a thing.” 

Then he moved to the group of pine trees, and 
all night long you might have heard them talk- 
ing together, and saying that Bertie should have 
Christmas. 

“ First, we must get the father,” said the Wind. 
“ It could never be a good Christmas without a 
father in the house.” 

So he flew through the still night, many miles 
away, to a lumber camp in the forest, where men 
in rough clothes were sitting around a cabin fire. 
And to one of these he whispered and whispered 
again, of a mother who watched and listened day by 
day, and of a brave, small boy who cared for all the 
smaller boys. “Christmas, Christmas, Christmas,” 
sang the Wind in the man’s ear, till he rose and 
stretched himself. 

“ Boys,” he said, “ don’t you know that to-morrow’s 
Christmas ? I think I’ll go home to the children. 
If Jenkins will lend me his sleigh, and I travel all 
night, I ought to get there about noon.” 

The Wind never stopped pushing and calling, till 
the horses were harnessed and the man was in the 
sleigh. Then he started them racing through the 
night, over the long, white road. 


When the Wind came once more to the little 
house, he found the mother hard at work. She had 
not needed his whisper in her ear to stir her heart 
to love, but was busy with nimble fingers doing 
what she could. 

A row of small stockings hung from the chimney- 
piece. Something that smelled delightfully hot and 
sugary bubbled over the fire. And long into the 
night the mother bent over her workbasket, or 
tiptoed quietly about the room. 

Then when the gray dawn crept through the 
window, her tired eyes closed. Did she really see 
a plump little man with a jolly face slide down the 
chimney of the house he had never visited before ? 
Or was it a memory of long-ago Christmases in the 
old country? At any rate, there hung the stock- 
ings, full, and the firelight flickered and fell, while 
slowly the daylight came. 

Ted, who was the next boy to Bertie, was down- 
stairs first in the morning. That was because Bertie, 
being larger, had more buttons to fasten. Still, Ted 
could make just as much noise when he tried. He 
gave a whoop that brought every boy downstairs 
three steps at a time, buttons or no buttons. 

There stood Ted, pulling things out of a wonder- 
ful stocking, and the mother, with her eyes dancing 
as they had never seen them dance. 


29 


“ Merry Christmas ! ” shouted Bertie. Everybody 
said it to everybody else, while the Wind and the 
pine trees laughed till they shook, at the corner of 
the house. 

There was not so very much in the stockings, 
but, of course, that left more room for the love to 
slip in. But they had sugar candy, and apples, and 
cookies of strange and delightful shapes, neckties 
made of bits of ribbon, and pictures cut from some 
old papers. You would never have thought that 
six boys and a bit of a baby could make so much 
noise. 

Before the stockings were fairly emptied, Bertie 
called every one to the window. “ Quick, it’s pic- 
tures, see them ! ” he cried. 

This was the present which the Wind had asked 
the Frost King to give. There were paintings over 
each window pane, — silvery, glistening, fairy pic- 
tures of church spires and castles, of flowers and 
stars. The boys crowded about the window, and 
looked and wondered. Then one called from the 
open door, “Oh, do come here, just see the snow!” 

They ran to see the place where the snow lay, 
shining jewel-like in the sunshine. Wreaths there 
were, and palm branches, and ripples like those on 
a summer lake. These the Wind had helped the 
Snow King make. 


TRUE FAIRY STORIES — 9 


130 


Then they must have breakfast. Nobody could 
eat much, for they must be told about Christmas 
over and over again. All talked at once, so that 
when the baby beat the table with a spoon, it really 
added very little to the noise. 

I think it was while the cups and saucers were 
being washed, that there came a sudden rustling 
and tapping at the door. One of the boys opened 
it, and there across the threshold lay a little pine 
tree, green and shining in the snow. 

“ The wind has blown it down,” said the mother, 
wisely. So it had, but only the wind and the pine 
tree knew why. 

Now they could have a Christmas tree after all. 
It was trimmed with nothing but its own cones, and 
instead of the light of candles, it could give out 
only the fragrance of its own sweet breath. But it 
filled the children’s breasts with joy, and they joined 
hands and danced about it till the pine cones quiv- 
ered on the branches. 

The North Wind had been enjoying it as much 
as the children. Suddenly, as though something 
had called him, he started off to the highroad where 
a team of rough-coated horses were pulling a sled 
through the snow. On the seat beside the man 
who drove, was a large box, on which was written 
in big black letters, “ Master Bertie Matthews.” 


3i 


The Wind whistled with excitement. He blew 
snow in the man’s face to make him hurry. He 
called “ Get up ” to the slow horses, and pushed the 
heavy sled from behind. “ It must get there in 
time, in time, in time ! ” he shrieked, with his voice 
rising high. 

When the Wind came again to the little house, 
something else had happened. A big man stood in 
the middle of the floor. The mother was clinging 
to his arm, and the boys stood close about him. 
“ Something kept telling me to come home,” he 
said; “something kept telling me it was Christmas 
and hurrying me along. Here, I’ve found you all 
well and happy, and now it’s Merry Christmas, 
boys ! ” Then the boys cried, “ Merry Christmas, 
father ! ” and pulled him into the ring to dance 
around the tree. 

It was a fine dinner they had, with the father sit- 
ting at the head of the table. Afterwards they 
brought in Bertie’s wood, and heaped the fireplace 
full, till the flames went rushing up the chimney. 
They sat about it, in the warm light. The mother 
sang “ While shepherds watched their flocks by 
night,” and nobody but the father had ever heard 
her sing before. 

All the boys sat on the father’s knees ; and it was 


132 


surprising to know how many boys those knees 
could hold, and still have room for the baby. 

Then the father told them stories of the forest, 
and of the birds and animals and their homes. 
Whenever they could think of nothing else to say, 
some one would pipe out “ Merry Christmas ! ” 

At last the evening began to grow dark, and the 
boys began to get sleepy. Then the Wind went 
blustering down the road crying, “ What keeps the 
box ? ” When he met the sled, he shouted and called 
and urged the horses along. “ Christmas will soon 
be over; you must get there in time,” he said. 

So it came about that just as the mother had 
lighted the lamp, they heard sled runners creaking 
on the snow outside. A voice said, “ Whoa ! ” 
The father opened the door. There were two or 
three hallos, and one of the boys added “ Merry 
Christmas,” to be polite. 

The driver said, “ There’s a box here for one of 
these young men, I believe. I brought it all the 
way from the station because it was Christmas. I 
should have been later, but the wind blew so hard 
behind us that it helped us all along.” 

Somehow they got the box into the house. The 
father picked up a hatchet. Bertie read the address, 
“ Master Bertie Matthews.” Could it be possible 
the box was for him ? 


33 


But when the cover was taken off, they saw a 
card, and some one read from it, “ With Miss Helen’s 
love.” So they all knew it was really true, and that 
no one was dreaming. What a long journey the 
box had come ! Outside it was all battered and 



cracked, but inside the treasures it held were just as 
fresh as when Miss Helen’s hands had laid them 
there. 

Everybody felt there had never been a box like it. 
The Wind did not try to see it from the window, 


34 


but blew right in at the keyhole, and whistled for 
very joy. 

There were toys such as these little forest children 
had never seen before. There were drums, wagons, 
a family of sheep, a horn that made a great noise, 
blocks and books, peppermint canes, and candy 
animals. There were warm stockings, too, for little 
feet. There were caps and mittens to keep ears 
and fingers warm, a soft shawl for the mother, and 
books and papers to tell the father about the world 
beyond the forest. 

In the very bottom of the box was a picture, 
marked “ For Bertie.” It was a picture of a Mother 
and a Baby, and about the baby’s head shone a 
light, and something of the same light looked at you 
from the Mother’s eyes. Bertie held the picture 
with very tender hands. He whispered to his little 
brothers and said that it told the story of the Christ 
Child. 

Outside now, the Wind was telling the listening, 
rustling pine trees about the wonderful box. The 
little house grew dark and quiet. Christmas was 
almost over. 

Then suddenly the door opened, and over the 
step and down the path to the road went Bertie. 
For a while he stood quite still, as though waiting 
for something. The white world lay before him 


135 


in perfect stillness. Only the stars overhead seemed 
to live and burn with lasting light. 

“ That must be the Star, I think,” said Bertie, 
“that very bright one that shines so quietly. It’s 
up so high because every one can see it better, I 
suppose. For Christmas and the Star are for every- 
body to have, for always.” 

The starlight fell on the upturned face. He 
felt something touch his head gently. He heard 
a voice whisper, “ Good night.” But he did not 
know it was only the Wind in the trees. 


THE NIGHTINGALE 



Once upon a time there lived a rich, rich man, 
and he had more money than was in all the rest 
of the country. He lived 
in a house like a palace, 
built all of porcelain, so 
that one had to be careful 
not to press against it; for 
porcelain, you know, is 
very brittle. The shutters 
that closed the windows 
were of purest gold. Gay 
silken flags fluttered from 
the towers. And every 
time the great doors swung 
open, the trumpeters blew 
a loud blast to warn the 
guest who was entering not to neglect seeing the 
splendor within. 

The house stood in a wonderful garden full of 
flowers from all parts of the world. The rich man 
did not know the name of a single flower, but because 
they had cost much money, he knew they must be 


136 


137 


very precious. So he fastened silver bells to every 
stem, that when a visitor’s garments brushed against 
them, their ringing would draw attention to the 
plants. 

Beyond the garden stretched a forest, and the 
forest reached all the way to the blue sea. There, 
among the sandhills, was a little fishing village, and 
every night when the fishermen set their nets and 
lines they heard a nightingale sing. “ How beauti- 
ful that is ! ” they said one to another. 

From other lands and cities came people to visit 
the rich man’s house. When they had moved 
through all the stately rooms, and seen the garden 
with the bell-hung flowers, they walked in the forest 
where the deer ran. There they also heard the 
nightingale sing. 

When they went back to their homes, they sat 
down and wrote all that they had seen, and they 
always wrote, “The most beautiful thing that the 
rich man has is the nightingale which sings at the 
edge of the forest.” 

By and by these writings were printed in books, 
and the rich man sat upon his golden chair and 
read, nodding his head to say, “ That is so,” when 
he came to the places where they told of all his 
treasures. But when he read, “ The most beautiful 
of all is the nightingale,” he let his glasses drop 


138 


from off his nose, for he had never heard of a night- 
ingale. He called the chief steward, and said, 
“ Ahem.” He always began that way, for then 
people thought that something of importance was 
to follow. “Ahem, my man,” he said,, “what is this 
I read of a nightingale within my forest? Have I 
any such ? ” 

The chief steward bowed his head, and said, 
“Yes, your Excellency.” 

“ Bring him to me,” said the rich man, and he 
leaned back comfortably in his chair, and tapped 
his fingers and thumbs together. 

The steward was in much trouble, for who knew 
how to catch a nightingale, or even how to make 
him sing if he was caught? He asked the chief 
lackey, and the chief lackey asked the head valet, 
and the head valet asked the first footman, and the 
first footman asked the biggest butler. At last the 
question came to the cook’s scullion, and he said 
the little fisher maiden could tell them all about it, 
and, as luck would have it, she was in the kitchen 
at that very moment. 

Down the stairway trooped the chief steward and 
the head valet and the first footman and all the rest 
to see the little fisher maiden. 

She stood quite straight in her ragged frock, and 
looked at them with sea-blue eyes. “ Oh, yes,” she 


*39 


said, “ I know the nightingale. When I am tired 
in the evening, and rest in the wood, I hear his voice, 
and it sounds like church bells. You may hear him, 
too, if you will come with me.” 

No one cared to take so long and hard a walk; 
but they remembered the rich man’s words, and all 
set forth. The chief steward tripped carefully along 
in front, lest he should stain his shining shoes, and 
the rest followed him in order. 

First they heard the cows lowing in the lane. 
“ Ah, there he is ! ” cried the chief lackey. “ One 
could easily tell by the beauty of his voice ! ” 

“ Those are but the cows coming home to be 
milked,” said the fisher maiden, and she laughed 
aloud. 

Next they heard the frogs croaking by the lily 
pond. “ That is he ! ” cried the biggest butler. 
“ I never heard so sweet a sound ! ” 

“ It is only the frogs,” laughed the fisher maiden. 
“ But, hush, we are coming to his tree. Ti*ead softly, 
listen ! ” 

They tiptoed through the woods, and held their 
breath. At length the nightingale began to 
sing. 

“ Dear me,” said the chief steward, “ I did not 
know so small and plain a bird could sing so well. 
How pleased he must be to have so many grand 


40 


people listening to him.’' But the nightingale looked 
only at the fisher maiden. 

“ Tell him,” said the head valet, “ he is to sing 
for the rich man.” 



“ That I will do willingly,” answered the nightin- 
gale, and he kept on singing. 

“ But they want you to come to the great house,” 
the fisher maiden told him. “ The rich man never 
walks so far, and his carriage cannot get between 
the trees.” 

“ My song sounds best within the green wood,” 


said the nightingale. But after some coaxing he 
agreed to go. 

From the great house invitations had been sent 
to all the country round. All the rooms were filled 
with men and women and the sound of jangling 
voices. From top to bottom the house glittered 
with lights. The air was heavy with the perfume 
of roses. A golden perch waited for the night- 
ingale, and in a crystal bowl was clear water for 
him to drink. Everything was ready. 

Then into the hall came the messengers, and on 
the steward’s finger rode the nightingale. When 
the bird sat upon the golden perch, people won- 
dered to see so small and plain a bird. “ Can he 
really sing?” they asked each other, and prepared 
themselves to listen. 

The nightingale looked first at the shining lights 
and flashing jewels, and then at the rows of servants 
in gold-laced livery. Then he swelled his throat, 
raised his head, and sang a song of the green wood. 
Behind the curtain where she had hidden, the fisher 
maiden felt her eyes grow dim with tears. But the 
people saw only a little gray bird. 

The rich man sat tapping his fingers and thumbs. 
“Ahem,” he said, “is there no other song you 
sing ? ” he asked. 

“ I have the song of my nest, of the harvest time, 


142 


of the wind in the trees, and many others,” answered 
the nightingale. He sang again, telling of the rush 
of the winds, and the voices of the leaves ; but the 
people did not understand, and the ladies held up 
fans to hide their yawns. 

Suddenly through the crowded hall came a man 
in working clothes, with a box under his arm. He 
went hastily to the rich man’s seat and said, “ Your 
Excellency, I have here a little toy, an effort of my 
own, that I hope will please you.” 

He took from the chest a smaller box. He un- 
wound many wrappings and brought out his toy. 
It was a tiny bird made of golden metal. Its eyes 
were two gleaming rubies, and a collar of diamonds 
belted its throat. “ Ah ! that is truly beautiful ! ” 
cried all the guests, and they came quite near to see 
it. Then the workman pressed a spring, and the 
bird turned its head .stiffly from side to side, and 
sang quite in dancing time a merry little waltz. 

“ Wonderful ! Beautiful ! Exquisite ! ” exclaimed 
the ladies, and many gentlemen clapped their hands 
to show their delight. The rich man nodded his 
head and looked approval at the bird’s maker. It 
sang again and again, and the ladies began to hum 
the air and take little dancing steps. They admired 
the sheen of gold on its wings, and the quality of the 
diamonds in its collar. 


143 


The nightingale sat alone on its perch. By and 
by up came the first footman. He clapped his 
hands and cried roughly : “ Be off with you ! To 
think that such a plain and simple thing as you 
would ' please so rich a man ! ” The nightingale 
fluttered away through a window. Out from the 
curtain slipped the fisher maiden, and then she and 
the little bird together went through the quiet night 
and under the stars, far away into the forest. 

But the golden bird became the fashion in the 
country. Every one whistled and sang its little 
waltz. The rich man kept it close beside his chair, 
and sat pressing the spring that made it sing the 
whole day through. Of course one would have 
liked it better if it had sometimes changed its song. 

At last the rich man fell ill. He lay quiet for 
many days, behind the satin curtains of his bed. 
Once when he seemed to be sleeping, his servants 
stole away to the great kitchen, and there made 
merry with eating and laughing and telling stories ; 
and the rich man lay all alone. 

When he opened his eyes he was in great pain, 
but there was none to help. He stretched his hand 
toward a goblet of water, but it was just beyond his 
reach. His pillow was hot, but there was no one to 
turn and smooth it. The rich man groaned aloud. 
Then he turned his heavy eyes to the costly table 


144 


where stood the golden bird, and in a feeble voice 
he said, “ Sing, bird, sing, and help me to forget.” 

But no one touched the spring, and the bird kept 
silent. The tired limbs of the great man ached, and 
there was no one to relieve him. Hot winds seemed 
to beat against his burning head. Bad dreams tor- 
mented him. 

In at the window flew a small gray bird. It 
alighted on a stand beside the bed. It swelled out 
its throat, and began to sing. It sang so sweet and 
strong that the sick man raised himself in bed. 
“ Come to the green wood, the green wood in the 
spring,” sang the nightingale. The man stood up 
beside his bed, and began to dress. 

The nightingale flew to the window. The man 
crawled unsteadily to the door. Then both went 
out into the sunshine. 

Down in a meadow at the forest edge the sick man 
lay among the grasses. He saw where the daisies 
and buttercups shone brighter than silver and gold. 
He watched the trailing clouds drift idly against the 
fair, blue sky. He heard sweeter and more sweetly 
the nightingale pour forth song after song. He heard 
the low murmur of the waves upon the shore ; and 
when he closed his eyes, there came a sound from one 
of the fisherman’s huts, — the sound of a woman sing- 
ing a cradle song. And the rich man was made well. 


A STORY OF TRUTH 


Once upon a time a king ruled over a great 
country. This country was rich in mighty moun- 
tains and onward rushing rivers. Treasures of gold 
and silver were hidden just beneath the ground, and 
the fertile soil lay ready, only waiting for the farmer’s 
plow and gift of seed to produce rich harvests of 
golden grain. 

And yet in all the world there was no country so 
unhappy as this ; for the lives of king and peasant 
alike were clouded by a spell which no one under- 
stood, and which it seemed no power was strong 
enough to break. 

Day and night were just the same in this unhappy 
land ; for the eyes of the people were so dimmed 
that whether the sun shone or the stars gleamed 
the world to them seemed always covered with 
clouds and mist. 

When they spoke, it was thickly and indistinctly, 
as though they were afraid. At one moment they 
would say, “ These sheep and cattle are my neigh- 
bor’s,” and at the next they would reach out their 

TRUE FAIRY STORIES — IO 1 45 


146 

hands to take the cattle, saying, “ No, these beasts 
belong to me.” 

No man knew in whom to trust, and each was 
afraid of every other. 

Day after day the King sat darkly on his throne. 
When his people spoke to him, he ever told them 
what was not so, and even tried to deceive and con- 
fuse them ’by what he said. As the King did, so 
did they all. And so none knew in whom to believe, 
and in all the unhappy kingdom tears came instead 
of laughter, and never was any voice raised in singing. 

Did I say all ? There was one who did not do 
as the others. That one was the Prince. His heart 
was sad, and he spent all his days wondering what 
the spell might be that held his country fast. He 
wondered what power could be found strong enough 
to undo the evil and make all things good. 

One night, as he lay upon his bed, a voice sounded 
clearly in his ears : “ At the other side of the river 
stands a purple mountain, and beyond that lies a 
desert place of sand, and across the sand, at the 
farthest side, lives a woman, old as Time itself. 
She will tell thee all thou art to know.” 

As the voice ceased, the Prince sprang from his 
bed. He felt that the end to all the trouble was 
almost come. 

So, night though it was, he went quickly from 


l 47 


the palace. With his own hands he put the saddle 
on his horse, and brought food to last them both 
through a long journey. Then, buckling his sword 
to his side, he sprang to the saddle. He was off 
and away, while yet the night kept all in stillness. 

“At the other side of the river,” the Voice had 
said. So, though there was no bridge, and the river 
rushed along, deep and dark, into it plunged the 
Prince and his horse, with never a thought of fear. 
The water grew deeper, till it touched the Prince’s 
feet. Then the brave horse swam, and so brought 
them safely to the other side. 

Before them was a mountain that lifted its purple 
head toward the sky, and seemed lost among the 
drifting clouds. 

The sides of the mountain were steep and very 
rough, but the Prince and the horse toiled upward 
together. Soon it became so steep that the Prince 
was forced to walk and lead his good horse by the 
bridle. Often they were obliged to stop to take 
breath ; but just as the day was breaking, they 
crossed the top of the mountain and turned down 
the other side. 

There before them stretched the desert, a plain 
of white, hot sand. Not a tree nor any other green 
thing was there for the eye to rest on, only gleaming 
sand, as far as they could see. 


148 


Then the Prince mounted again, and slowly rode 
on across the desert. Through all that long day he 
rode, with the hot sun beating down on his head, 
and the hot sand burning his feet, till just at dusk, 
“at the farthest side of the desert,” as the Voice had 
said, a little hut showed dark against the sky. 

As they drew nearer, they saw that bushes and 
green herbs grew around it, and from the hut a 
faint line of blue smoke rose straight into the air. 

Just within the doorway a little old woman stood, 
shading her eyes with her hand, and peering out 
into the twilight to see what these slowly moving 
figures might be. 

The Prince jumped from his horse, and bowed 
low before her. To him her face seemed dark and 
forbidding, yet when she smiled, it was full of light. 

She would not let him speak, or tell her of his 
errand, till she had seated him on a bench beside 
the door. Then she brought water that he might 
wash away the dust, and gave him food to satisfy 
his hunger. 

When the Prince had eaten and rested, he cared 
for the good horse. He loosed its bridle, and 
turned it free to graze as it would in the meadow. 
Then he told his errand to the old woman who sat 
down beside him and patiently listened. 

He told her of all the troubles in his unhappy 


149 









m 












m 


■m 


THE PRINCE 








i5o 


country, and of his desire to help the people. When 
he had ended, the woman lifted her head and smiled, 
and again the light shone from her face. 

“The Truth shall make you free,” she said; “it 
is the only way.” 

From her cloak she brought forth a crystal ball, 
as clear as light, and placed it in the Prince’s hands. 
“Take this ball,” she said; “place it where all may 
see it, let the people learn to watch it, and as they 
help themselves, so will the ball help them to undo 
the spell that is upon them ! ” 

Then the Prince rose, and thanked her; and with 
the precious ball in his hand, he mounted the horse, 
and turned back over the long way he had come. 

Through the night and the next day he traveled, 
and in the evening he reached the palace gates. 

None in the palace had known whither he had 
gone. To all the questions concerning him each 
had given a different answer ; so that, as ever, none 
knew whom to believe, and the King had mourned 
him as lost. 

So when the Prince appeared before the gates, 
coming slowly, with a great crystal ball in his hands, 
its light shining on his golden hair and in his blue 
eyes, the King arose and took him in his arms for 
gladness. 

Then the Prince hung the crystal ball in the 


doorway of the palace, where all could see it ; and 
he asked his father to call the people . together, so 
that he might, to lord and peasant alike, tell his 
story. 

And as he stood beneath the ball, upright and 
strong, with his young voice ringing clearly, the 
people’s heavy eyes saw how dazzling the crystal 
ball shone. Something began to stir within their 
hearts, and they wondered whether strength and 
freedom might not come to them also. 

But because the spell had lain on them for so 
many years, the evil could not be undone at once. 
The good must come only through their own 
striving. 

They therefore learned to watch the ball, as the 
Prince had told them, and whenever a man told a 
falsehood to his neighbor, whenever one said what 
was not true, or tried by his actions or words to 
deceive, the crystal ball turned black as night, and 
the earth trembled beneath the tread of the guilty; 
and the unhappy man’s throat and heart felt as 
though bound by bands of iron. 

By and by they were able to walk more erect 
and with eyes lifted while they watched the ball. 

And they saw that when any stood firm to speak 
the truth, the great ball shone with a wonderful 
light, and they felt the light within their own lives, 


152 


and knew they could be strong and free. And as 
the years went on, less often did the crystal ball 
turn black ; for the people were trying to keep that 
clear light always shining in the ball and within 
themselves. 

Thus they saw that only as they spoke the truth 
could they be men and help others to be true. 

At the same time the knowledge came to them 
that the world was fair and that they were strong ; 
and the kingdom began to hum with the song of 
busy workers. They tilled the fields and rejoiced 
in the harvest. They dug deep in the earth, for the 
treasures of gold and silver that lay hidden there. 
They built great ships and sent them sailing down 
the mighty rivers. And, to help the others work, 
some painted wonderful pictures or sang poems of 
the strong and true, till travelers, coming from other 
lands, said nowhere in the world was there a country 
more beautiful than this, or a wiser and happier 
people. 

By and by the young Prince came to sit upon 
his father’s throne ; and he caused to be written 
above the palace gates in letters of golden light, 
that the people might see and remember always 
the words which the wise woman had spoken to 
him, — “And the Truth shall make you free.” 


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NATURAL ELEMENTARY GEOGRAPHY 

Linen Binding, Quarto, 144 pages . . . Price 60 cents 

NATURAL ADVANCED GEOGRAPHY 

Linen Binding, Large Quarto, 160 pages . . . Price $1.25 

By Jacques W. Redway, F.R.G.S., and Russell Hinman, 
Author of the Eclectic Physical Geography. 

The publication of The Natural Geographies marks a new era in the 
study and teaching of geography. Some of the distinctive features which 
characterize this new series are : 

1. A Natural Plan of Development, based on physical geography and 

leading in a natural manner to the study of historical, industrial, 
and commercial geography. 

2. Clear and distinct political maps showing correctly the comparative 

size of different countries, and physical maps showing relief by 
contour lines and different colors, as in the best government maps. 

3 Inductive and comparative treatment of subjects according to the 
most approved pedagogical principles. 

4.. Frequent exercises and reviews leading to the correlation and com- 
parison of the parts of the subject already studied. 

5. Topical outlines for the language work required by the Courses of 

Study of the best schools. 

6. Supplementary Exercises including laboratory work and references 

for collateral reading. 

7. Numerous original and appropriate pictures and graphic diagrams 

to illustrate the text. 

8. Clear explanations of each necessary term where it first occurs, and 

omission of formal definitions at the beginning of the book. 

9. Strict accordance, in method and treatment, with the recommenda- 

tions of the Committee of Fifteen. 


Illustrated Circulars describing the plan and method of The Natural 
Geographies will be sent free to any address on application. 

Copies of The Natural Geographies will be sent , prepaid , to any address 
on receipt of the price by the Publishers : 


New York 

(ioq) 


American Book Company 

♦ Cincinnati ♦ Chicago 


Maxwell’s English Course 

By WILLIAM H. MAXWELL, M.A., Ph.D, 
Superintendent of Schools, City of New York. 

FIRST BOOK IN ENGLISH 

For use in Elementary Grades 40 cents 

INTRODUCTORY LESSONS IN ENGLISH GRAMMAR 

For use in Intermediate and Grammar Grades . . 40 cents 

(These two books constitute a complete graded course in English 
for Elementary and Grammar Grades.) 


ADVANCED LESSONS IN ENGLISH GRAMMAR 

For Higher Grammar Classes and High Schools . . 60 cents 


The “First Book in English” combines lessons, prac- 
tice, and instruction in the elementary principles in the 
English language, in such a rational and practical way as 
to make a text-book for beginners in language study, which 
avoids the platitudes of modern ‘ ‘ language lessons ” on one 
hand, and the difficulties of “technical ” grammar on the 
other. 

The “Introductory Lessons” presents as much of the 
science of grammar with its applications as children can 
understand and appreciate, before taking up an advanced 
course in English. The book contains in a compact form 
a well-graded and perspicuous treatment of all the subjects 
usually taught in English Grammar. It omits no essen- 
tial principle or definition or example, and is sufficiently 
complete to meet all the requirements of the usual course 
of study of Intermediate or Grammar Schools. 

The “Advanced Lessons in English Grammar” em- 
braces all the theory and all the practice that are necessary 
during the last two years of a grammar-school or through- 
out a high school course. It is intended to serve two 
purposes : First, that of a text-book , supplying the 
principles and rules of the science as well as their applica- 
tion in copious exercises; Second, a book of reference , to 
be used whenever difficulties are presented either in the 
student’s own compositions or in literature that is sub- 
jected to critical study. 

Copies sent to any address, prepaid, on receipt of price. 

American Book Company 

New York ♦ Cincinnati « Chicago 

(78) 






NOV 15 1902 










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